#some of you sit up all high and mighty on your high horse bitching and complaining and accusing

[halosluvchild]

.

[thedarkheretic156]

Eternal Flame

Sesshomaru x DemiGod! Reader

warnings: mild description of violence, death

Parts: ❧ I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX❧

The old folklore of the east whispers of a terrible power. Wielded by a lone demigod, fated to walk through the eras the dark fires of hell dancing on her fingers. With no regard for human life, she was fated to be feared and worshipped. But fate is a bitch. Now cursed to be stripped of her powers and doomed to mortality she finds herself in the care of a sworn rival. The great Daiyoki of the west.

ḯ̵̡̤̣̞̜͑ Mortal ḯ̵̡̤̣̞̜͑

“You IGNORANT HUMAN HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK TO THE GREAT DAIYOKAI HIMSELF-“ the toad thing screamed so violently, that the little human girl jumped to her feet and scurried outside the hut. I shut my eyes close. The first thing I do when I get my powers back is to cook that fucking frog. I promised myself.

The wounds still hurt. Seven hells, do these human wounds ever heal? I groaned internally as I made the mistake of turning in a more comfortable position, more pain shot up my shoulder blade, flooding through my entire torso. I gritted my teeth as I tried to breathe through it. As the toad thing raged on in the background I shut my eyes tight hoping to wake up from whatever nightmare this was. My body had never felt so vulnerable… so pathetic before. I would willingly submit if the earth mother was to split open and swallow her stupid mortal body right now.

“You should be grateful that Lord Sesshomaru even considered helping a lowlife like yours!”

Yes. Him, the worst part of this whole horror extravaganza. Even with a human body, I should have been able to stand my ground and give that horse yokai a run for its money. But it had torn me apart in an unmatched battle. Just when I had thought it would be my shameful end, I was saved. By the likes of him. To watch his cold amber eyes scrutinize her vulnerable body and then take pity on her, was much worse than being eaten by a yokai. Anger burned in my gut. I had heard of him before, the mighty destroyer of towns, it was high praise for a demon to be sung about among demigods. I would toss my hair and scoff every time someone would talk of his valor. Unknowingly this mysterious daiyokai had become my sworn rival.

As I honed my body through training every day, I would boast how the great Sesshomaru would be wise to never step upon the western lands. I had dreamed of facing him down in brutal combat, what it would be like to claim bakusaiga for myself when I emerged victorious.

Well. Fate was a little piece of shit. Not in my wildest dreams had I imagined it to turn out like this. I hadn’t expected the fear as the demon lord approached me coldly, curling his fingers under my chin and making me wait in anticipation as he decided if I was worth saving. And although I hadn’t expected the awe from his beauty either, it was all swallowed up by bitter shame. The shame, the anger it was all fucking because of that crone. Cursing her on the eve of her age coming feast. A curse that had fated me to something worse than eternal labor. Mortality.

My nails dug into the soft earth as I suppressed a growl.

“It will all be alright now!”

I opened my eyes to see the little human child race inside again, balancing a bucked with her wiry arms. She blinked her big brown eyes at me as she sat down beside my body. “We should re-dress, your wounds again!” she chirped, sounding very excited for such a morbid situation.

I groaned as she helped me sit up, Rin? Was that her name? All humans smelled and looked the same to me. Regardless, it was this child that I truly owed my life to. She had begged and pleaded Sesshomaru to take her in, and to my great surprise, the daiyokai had complied. The child seemed ecstatic at me getting to travel with them. I couldn’t blame her; the frog was very annoying and I doubted if Sesshomaru was ever chatty.

She hummed softly as she peeled the bandages off my shoulders and chest. We were inside some makeshift hut? The roof was made entirely of dry straw, the walls and floors from dry mud. The shallow fire hearth made little to no difference, the wind outside was chilly and it pricked my skin like needles. Even with the wounds, it felt like something was wrong, I couldn’t stop feeling cold. Rin had called it a fever. At once she had scurried off on thin legs coming back with random herbs. I had only watched as she sat grinding them patiently, mixing them with water and whatnot. Even now, as she changed my bandages, her fingers were nimble yet experienced.

“where did you learn to do this?” I asked. For a second her chirpiness disappeared.

“I learned it myself.” She said.

I decided not to ask any more questions. The human girl went back to humming, as she dabbed the cloth in the water, this time I peered in too. What stared back at me made me gasp. Even in the distorted bucket of blood-water, it wasn’t my face staring back at all. Oh sky mother. I had known the curse had turned me human. But this… wasn’t my body at all. The girl who started back had a small mousey face, eyes set wide apart giving me a perpetually scared look. Wisps of thin coarse hair fell around my face. For a second I couldn’t breathe. I-was… s-so so plain. And plain before HIM.

This is it. If it wasn’t the horse yokai, it was this abomination of my face that would be the death of me. I wasn’t the demigod of the fire clan anymore, not the beauty born of the raging storm. Just a mountain girl, from some human village. No one would remember me if I did die in this body, woefully forgettable. Even Rin who hadn’t even reached womanhood surpassed me in beauty. My head swam suddenly feeling very faint.

“Does it hurt?’ Rin yelped out, at once helping me lie down. “I’ll let you rest.” She said glancing at her worriedly. Within seconds she grabbed the bucket and the toad and raced outside.

The darkness of the night weighed in on me. 14 more days I counted as I lidded my eyes. At least that’s what the crone had chanted. “Fated to be human until the blood moon rises for the feat of Manna.” My stomach churned as I remembered the final line, “You shall learn the power of human life, after losing your own. That is the only gift I can give you daughter of the hills. Your true self.”

Daughter of the hills. Daughter of an Ayakashi Prince and a mountain Goddess. A mother I had never seen before. But I had sworn her patronage and drawn my sword under her name.

Beside me, my katana gleamed sadly. The first time my father had placed the sword in my hands he had made me pledge. “She is the strongest companion you’ll ever find.” He had said, “The demon of the thousand petal blossom by your side. So, remember to reward her every day. Bathe her in blood every time you draw her, remember to let her feast and you’ll never know defeat.”

I had named the sword mrutunjai, triumph over death. And I had drawn her, day after day. Town after town. With her I truly was invincible. Until that damn crone. The memories of that fated night flooded through my mind. My dragon hide armor was slick with blood, I could still feel the pieces of yokai flesh between my teeth. But sweat-soaked and covered in blood the night wasn’t over yet.

The human woman clung to the last remaining yokai. Its eyes had rolled back into its head, one of its horns already broken, the only signs of life it showed was the faint twitch of its curling fingers.

“please” the woman had pleaded, covering the yokai with her body, its dark blood seeped into her kimono ike black oil. Tear-streaked face, yet such unyielding eyes. “You have killed everyone else.” She rasped out. “Spare my husband. Please I beg you on the name of our Goddess.”

“And it is for her that I am purging your village of these lesser demons. The yokai is already poisoned from miasma, I will put an end to its suffering quickly.” I said.

“T-Take me instead.” The woman cried, hugging the yokai closer. In my had Mrutunjai hummed with hunger. I had promised her the blood of 100 lesser demons. And that is what she would have.

“Don’t test my patience Human.” I sneered “If you wish to die I can just kill you with that yokai, my sword’s thirst will only subside with a yokai’s flesh.”

The human woman refused to move. I bared my fangs, eyes flashing with anger. “This village was under the patronage of the Mountain Goddess. To taint it with lesser demons is to challenge me directly. You fools should have anticipated this.”

The woman flinched, draping herself across the yokai’s body, “You don’t understand.” The woman’s voice quivered, but strange strength sparked within her, “Because of what you are… you cannot understand.”

My anger brimmed, flaring like the untamed wildfire. Mrutunjai sliced through them human and yokai blood splattering across the earth. Equally worthless. The humming of the blade finally subsided. I shut my eyes in prayer. “I have saved another of your village mother.”

“Killing in the name of our goddess, you truly are disgraceful.”

I whirled in anger, to face whatever thing had the fucking audacity, to hold such defiance. I hadn’t expected to see the hag. Against the dim moonlight, the human woman looked frail, her silhouette hunched, a long shroud covering her face.

“I have saved your village,” I replied, tempering the storm inside. “Protected your unimportant human lives from the yokai that would have raided houses and devoured children for leisure. You hag, should be falling at my feet.” I snarled

“Protected?” The crone contested; with absolute lack of fear. She raised her head and the shroud fell back, moonlight fell across her feature. She was completely blind, white irises staring right at me. Strange dark marks covered her face in whorls and spirals that replicated galaxies. “The Goddess of Mountains was a harbinger of life.” Her mouth opened and a gold studded tongue snaked out, “She is cruel but justly so.”

The air around us grew colder, I flashed my fangs.

“The ones you claimed for yourself today were innocent. Our village has harbored yokai and humans together for years. They were our own. Fathers, brothers, children. We lived together for generations and you have slaughtered every one of them. Every yokai and every human that stood against you”

“That’s enough” I growled out, Mrutunjai growling with me as I unsheathed the wicked blade. What is the blood of a 100 more? “Humans and lesser demons are better left in their own worlds. Human lives are replaceable, they hold no significance. If I cut down a few humans to withhold the purity of my mother’s patron village, I will. I must.”

I unsheathed Mrutynjai and the hellfire in my veins growled to be free, “Choose your last words carefully, your severed head will soon join the ones at my feet.”

“Maybe your Ayakashi blood has tainted your wisdom. What fear does an old woman like me have of death, you fool?” the crone laughed.

“You have worn my patience human,” I screamed, as I flung at her, all of a sudden powerful ancient magic flooded around us. A Colum of pure magic erupted around the crone. My eyes widened as the searing light encased me completely, blinding me as an unknown force ripped the sword from my hands. There was clang at it clattered to the ground. With a painful howl, I shielded my eyes from the burning light.

The crone’s voice boomed louder and louder like the clap of thunder.

“A child of divinity is to return home in glory after spilling the blood of countless innocents? A gift I bestow upon you, as terrible and unyielding as your own rage.”

The chanting grew louder and my legs buckled, what the fuck was happening?

“Your flames will leave you; your strength will fail you. Your own face will be taken from you. Tonight at the eve of your glory feast.”

“For 14 days from tonight, I fate you to a life of mortality, till the blood moon rises for the feast of manna. You will learn the power of human life after losing your own. That is the gift I give you daughter of the hills. Your true self.”

-------

Parts: ❧ I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX❧

^^thankyou for reading! ^^

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Forgive, But First Fun - Nandor x f(vampire) reader

Summary: After getting left behind to fight off a pack of werewolves on your own, now mad at Nandor, you and Nadja have decided a little night out couldn’t hurt.

Warning: slight angst, fluff, fun times, and a tiny smut mention

Masterlist

Trudging angrily through the manors wooden doors, face stern and almost scary enough to put the fear of God into anyone. Your boots stomp into the large opening and onto the wooden floor boards as Gullimero, Nandor, and the documentary crew follow you in.

Your cloak is ripped and dirty as it lays in a pathetic black heap of cloth in Gullimero’s arms, your hair not looking any better, not to mention your face and arms that have various cuts paired with grass smudge marks adoring your skin. All in all you look like a hot mess.

“What the fuck happened to you lot? You’ve been gone all night.” Questions Laszlo as he walks into view from out of one of the hallways, his eyes scanning over a perfectly clean and handsome Nandor, then over to the dirty crew and disheveled Guillermo who’s got some leaves stuck to his hair.

“I don’t know.” You snap sarcastically, “How about you ask Mr. Dodgy-shit-stick over there.” Referring to Nandor who’s looking anywhere but you, keeping as silent as ever.

Gullimero looks between you and Nandor, then back at a confused Laszlo. “Oh, um they’re not speaking to each other right now.”

“And why the fuck not?”

Guillermo sighs before leaning towards Laszlo, “Nandor wanted to graffiti where the werewolves live and Y/N said he’d get caught and then Nandor said no I won’t and then he did.”

Laszlo raises a curious brow, “That’s it?”

“Oh, um....” Guillermo awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, suddenly pulling off a green leaf, “then they chased us to the park and when the pack closed in on us Nandor turned into a bat and left us behind so Y/N had to fight one of them off so we could escape and now we’re here.”

“Well that sounds rather exciting.”

“Not at the time.” Whispers Guillermo to no one in particular as he glances over at the camera.

“Huh,” Mutters Laszlo thoughtfully, scratching his beard as he thinks of how to help this situation, “well if you two dingbats aren’t talking to one another I believe Nadja needs you Y/N. Something about....well actually I’m not entirely sure.”

Perking up ever so slightly at this positive news, you cross your arms over your chest defiantly, “Well since someone does, I’ll be going then.” You grumble with a low growl at your Nandor who’s refusing to make eye contact while he stares frustrated at the floor.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Laszlo watches you stomp angrily up the steps before turning his head over to Nandor who’s now watching you leave with big sad eyes.

“Alright why’d you do it?” Interrogates Laszlo with a raised brow.

“Do whaaat?” Replies Nandor defensively, his once high and mighty aurora reappearing in an instant.

Rolling his eyes, Laszlo sets a hand on his hip sassily, “Well I sure as hell don’t want an angry Y/N wandering around this old place for the next however the fuck it takes you both to make up....in however fashion that may be. So I ask again, why’d you puss out and flee like a mangy opossum?”

Pursing his lips together in apprehensive embarrassment, Nandor mutters to himself before finally crossing his arms over his broad chest and sighing, “Because......I....I don’t know I panicked!” Exclaims the large vampire, causing Laszlo to start laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

Wiping a fake tear from his eye, Laszlo lets out a few more chuckles before finally composing himself, “My good man that is the second saddest thing I’ve ever heard. The first being when one of my many victims offered me one of their rare and exclusive Poki-muns card which I still have no idea what the fuck they were on about. Anyways, doesn’t matter, all I’ll tell is that you better make it up to her.”

“But she’s scary when she’s angryyy.” Whines Nandor with a frown.

“That’s all women my young pup, but since your lovely lady is a vampire she’s more dangerous.” He says while giving Nandor a kind pat on the back, “So uh, stay safe out there.” Adds Laszlo before turning and walking down the hallway leaving Nandor with his thoughts, Gullimero, and the documentary’s camera crew.

“What are you all looking at!” Snaps Nandor to the rest of the room.

——

“Oh my goodnessess that’s awful, my poor dark angel.” Soothes Nadja as you take a moment from your long and needed rant about the adventures in the park and Nandor’s cowardly stupidity. “That big hairy rhino doesn’t deserve you Y/N.” She reasons honestly, doing her best to make you feel better, knowing all to well the level of competent decision making skills of the other two vampires in the house.

“I know.” You mutter in agreement, your body tense and agitated as you pace back and forth in front of her as she sits in a chair, “Fucking beautiful idiot prick horse-fart of a husband. Urgghhh!” You proclaim loudly while throwing your hands into the air angrily, causing the furniture in the room to screech backwards across the old flooring at your outburst of vampiric energy. Nadja’s long obsidian hair blowing backwards as you do so while she keeps seated, unflinching.

Face softening, she gives you a sympathetic smile, “Oh my lovely fierce lioness, I know exactly what will make that sad little frown turn into a happy one.” Beams Nadja with an excited clap of her hands.

Hugging your sides, you let out a frustrated huff before giving your old friend a shrug, “What do you have in mind?”

——

“So we’re at the carnival!” Claps Nadja in delight as she smiles at the camera, “This will hopefully relieve Y/N’s pent up angers and keep her mind off of Nandor.....for now.” She adds a bit uncertainly.

“HA HA take that fuckers!” You shout joyfully from behind her, the camera panning over to you at the ball toss where you’ve been knocking down plastic bottles with a rubber ball. The stall owner cowering in the corner as he shields himself with a stuffed zebra.

The camera focuses back on Nadja, “I think it’s going really well so far.” She confirms with a convincing grin. “Relieving all that..uh....rage.” 

After winning a stuffed snake taller then you and deciding to wear it as a strange fashionable scarf, you and Nadja are wandering the carnivals streets while people watching to pass the time.

“So that’s why I never walk on the roof after 3am when I’ve had homeless man’s blood.” Rambles Nadja as your thoughts about Nandor come trickling down into your brain and nose. Huh, strange, must be cause you’re still wearing a thin red scarf of his.

No, stop thinking about him.

“Good lesson learned then,” You add with the flash of a smile before nudging her shoulder gently, “hey you wanna watch me win you something cool?”

Perking up in an instant, Nadja smiles a devilish fangy grin as she stops to eye up the multiple game stalls, “Why I would be delighted my dear Y/N, how about....um, oooh I want that giant tropical fishy with the long whiskers over there.” Points Nadja as your eyes travel over to the game stall with the large prizes.

It’s a game that requires the individual to shoot an arrow directly on three different sized bullseye’s stationed at various heights. Smiling like an idiot, you nudge your vampiric acquaintance in agreement, the both of you quickly swaggering over to the carnival game and it’s plush flashy prizes just screaming to be won.

“Hello good sir, my skilled roommate Y/N here is going to win me that fish.” Beams Nadja proudly as the teenager jumps off his chair to greet the two of you.

He smells like weed but surprisingly looks decent all things considered, “Uh yeah alright, two bucks for three arrows, hit every target directly on the middle red mark and if you make it on the bonus poster on the far back wall then you’ll have a chance to win that fish, good luck.” Mumbles the kid unenthusiastically as you slide him the cash.

Picking up the shitty yet still functional carnival bow, you give Nadja a wink before fitting an arrow in the nock and pulling back, lining up the shot and releasing directly into the first target to the left. Smirking to yourself you quickly draw again, hitting your second mark just as intended. Pays to be a skilled archer huh.

“Damn that’s pretty good aim.” Nods the teen as he watches in awe as you fit another arrow, releasing and punching a hole in the middle of the third target.

Nadja claps in excitement from behind you, “Yes! Win me that colorful fat bitch my feisty lioness!”

Standing like a warrior ready for battle with your bow in hand and wind blowing in your face, the kid almost drops the arrow he hands you for the winning shot as he practically swoons.

“Get those scissors ready, that fish is mine.” You growl in determination while picturing Nandor’s head as the final target, drawing back, you let the arrow fly straight into the bonus target. Winning Nadja her giant fish plushy.

“Yessss!” Shouts Nadja in delight as you drop the bow onto the table like a bad bitch before eyeing up the kid with a raised brow, “We’ll be taking the fish now.”

Wide eyed he almost falls off his chair, “Wait um, that’s the last one...I didn’t think, uh, my boss doesn’t want me to give away those ones.” He stutters out.

“What!” Snaps Nadja, “Then why are they just hanging there? You lied to us you little shit!”

“I’m sorry.” He pleads apologetically, “That’s what my boss told me. And no one ever wins the big prizes anyway so I didn’t think...”

“Well your boss he can eat a big horse turd cause I’m taking that fish.” You growl before jumping up and unhooking the fish from its perch above your heads, handing it to a practically glowing with joy Nadja who immediately hugs the thing.

Sticking your tongue out at the teen, you and Nadja turn to leave before a boney hand is suddenly on your shoulder, twisting around in an agitated instant, your face is mere inches from the wide eyed boy as he attempts to look even a tad bit threatening.

“No.” Is the only thing that slips from your tongue before your hand shoves him back, his whole body going air bound into the back of the carnival tent while the kid lets out a panicked scream.

“Ooooh Y/N that was very sexy of you.” Smirks Nadja while wiggling her dark brows, “Too bad a certain cowardly lion wasn’t here to see it.”

Petting the stuffed toy snake around your neck absentmindedly, you smile back a fangy grin, “Yes. Too bad.”

Continuing on your late night stroll through the carnival you both pass by random strangers, families, elders, children, and lovers all minding their sweet business completely unawares to the dark supernatural world walking right past them.

Although you’re quite enjoying this time spent with your best friend in the whole wide world, a low dull feeling of emptiness can’t help but creep into your undead being the more you catch sight of new and old couples walking together.

Sensing your growing sadness, Nadja nudges your shoulder playfully to gain your distracted attention, “Hello in there my black rose, what is on your mind?”

Holding the snake close to your body, a small smile creeps its way onto your face knowing she’s looking out for you, though it’s gone soon enough, “Oh you know....uh....blood.” You mutter unenthusiastically, trying to keep your thoughts away from Nandor and how much you miss him right now.

“Blood is it? But we just fed before attending the carnival.” Inquires Nadja in confusion as she keeps a normal pace at your side while the two of you follow the sidewalk past various shops and restaurants. “What is actually plaguing your mind my dear one?” She wonders with a frown, not keen on seeing you upset and in a grey mood.

Biting your lip anxiously, though not hard enough to draw blood, you walk past a couple more people before your eyes catch the sight of a small black bat disappearing behind a corner building just up ahead.

Squinting your eyes, your nose suddenly catches the scent of someone very familiar, “Nandor?”

Turning her head to face you, Nadja’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “What? No my sweet hurricane, forget that mangy old bear he’s not important right now.” Urges Nadja as she looks forward, suddenly surprised to catch a glimpse of someone who looks a lot like Guillermo racing behind the same corner you saw the bat fly behind. “Okay um what the fuck? Did you see that too?”

Glancing at Nadja you nod before quickening your steps as she does the same, her skirts flowing as she tries to catch up with you, though you’re much faster and with lack of annoying dress material, “Wait! You’re too fast.” Yelps Nadja.

Ignoring her protests you book it down the sidewalk like a maniac, almost running into a jogger before skidding round the corner of the brick building and coming face to face with a wide eyed Guillermo who gasps in surprise. Nudging him to the side, your eyes immediately fall upon the nervous fangy grin of your Nandor.

He gives you a shy little wave before shuffling awkwardly in place, awaiting your rampage of verbal and possibly physical assault that he’s certain is in the near future.

Taking a deep breath, you cross your arms over your chest defensively, “Were you following me?”

“Um, well.....I might have been....but only to make sure you were okay.” Mutters Nandor honestly, eyes shifting from you to the ground nervously as he awaits your wrath.

Pursing your lips together in thought, you shake your head before taking off the stuffed toy snake and holding it firmly in your hands. With a low growl do you grasp the snake in your right hand and hold it back like you might swing at any moment.

“You’re a fucking nincompoop you know that right?” Slips from your mouth without an once of anger lacing your words, instead do you hand the snake to Gullimero as Nandor watches in puzzled fear.

Taking a swift step forward, you point a finger into his strong chest while looking sternly up at him, “Racing off and leaving me too fight that angry bitch all by myself, and now following me when I needed a break from you! Nandor....... you’re something else.” You add with a shake of your head.

“Yes I know, and I’m sorry my love.” Smiles Nandor with saddened eyes, “I promise to keep you save from now on and fight off any werewolf who tries to hurt you....even if I am scared.”

Taking a step back, you can’t help the smirk that forms onto your face at his sweet words of forgiveness and sincerity. You know how much he fears werewolves and that he fled the scene thinking you were planning on following too, not realizing that you might actually give a shit about Gullimero’s and the crew’s lives.

“Oh my dear puff dragon,” You declare softly with a small smile, reaching both hands out to grasp his own, “I forgive you.”

Nandor’s face breaks out into the biggest and happiest grin you’ve seen since his last birthday when he walked into your shared crypt only to find you naked and holding a bushel of red roses while seated seductively on his coffin.

“Oh that’s fantastic because I was really missing you.” Reveals Nandor with a gentle squeeze of your hands. “Laszlo and Guillermo can’t make me laugh nearly as much as you can, they’re honestly rather boring.” He says before leaning in closer to whisper, “and not very attractive to look at either.” Causing you to crack another grin and your undead heart to fill with butterflies. 

Chuckling you reach up with one hand to pull his collar closer to you and a second later do your lips clash sweetly against one another in a heated moment of passion. He smiles into the kiss before moving to pull you in closer with both of his hands, one slipping low to cheekily pinch your round bottom.

Feeling him against you once again has to be the best sensation in the whole entirety of the world even if you’ve only been separated for a couple of hours. You absolutely love the way his fingers dig into your back and bum with an animalistic eagerness that’s slowly starting to drive you insane. Oh, the things he does to you.

Especially how his tongue slips into your mouth with ease while you tug at his hair long dark locks. “Y/N!” Suddenly shouts Nadja.

“Nandor!”

Begrudgingly pulling away, you turn around to face the confused lady vampire while Nandor hugs you from behind, happily smirking at her, knowing she can’t do anything to hurt him now. “Yes Nadja.” You answer.

With the fish plushy hung over her shoulder, her brows furrow in confusion, “What the fuck are you doing? I thought you were mad at him?”

“Yeah well, I was starting to really miss him and also I’m kind of horny now so.” You reply with a shrug as Nandor hugs you tighter, resting his bearded chin against your head while Nadja huffs in defeat.

“Alright. See you at home then.” Adds Nadja before turning towards Guillermo and shoving the giant carnival fish into his arms, “Hold this Gizmo I’m going home.” Then just like that she’s gone in a black wispy poof, flying away in bat form towards the vampire resistance on Staten Island.

“Okay then.” Mutters Gullimero as he looks up at the dark sky.

Feeling a wet kiss on the side of your face and neck you smile before turning around to face your dear husband, “Shall we take flight to seek out our bed chambers?” You speak slyly in a soft yet seductive voice.

“Yes.” Grins Nandor with a flash of lust and excitement before turning his attention over to Guillermo, “Hey Guillermo I’m leaving to make passionate love to my wife so don’t bother us or I will have a rat shit in your pillowcase. Okay?”

You giggle to yourself as Gullimero’s cheeks redden while he side eyes the camera, “Understood master. Have fun.” Squeaks out the loyal familiar as he stands there awkwardly with his hands full of two carnival prizes.

Nandor sneakily squeezes your bottom once more as he gives Gullimero a knowing smirk, “Oh, we will.” Then a second later you two are flying high above the city in bat form, ready to make love to your sweet Nandor for probably the twentieth time that week.

Down below the camera pans over to Gullimero as he blinks, “Well uh, I have these things now..” He says, holding up the fish, “and I am so not looking forward to cleaning up their mess.......again.”

[tinyboxxtink]

I Hate Mondays-- (An Abel Plenkov/Reader OS)

Ya'll I just saw "My Soul To Take" last night and Raul as 'The Ripper' aka Abel Plenkov.....FUCCKKKK!!!

You already know I had a million ideas running through my mind. This was the first. It's dark, it's smutty, it's super angsty and...dark. Be warned.

I fucking love it.

ALL under the cut. Because...yes.

IDK if my tag list wants to read this, but just in case...

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

-----------------------

“Ah, oh yes...fuck fuck fuck fuccccckkk baby yes--”

You were just about to orgasm when you felt the fist around your neck go limp and release you. You looked down to see the sad sack alter ego of your lover staring up at you in fear, his body now trembling.

“Aw for FUCK’S sake Abel,” You growled as you hopped of him. “You really know when to ruin a good time, don’t you?”

“W-W-Where am I?” His voice shook as he realized he was laying in a pool of blood. And not his own.

“You know where the fuck you are, Abel,” You groaned, losing your lady wood quickly. “Now where the fuck did you stash my Ripper?”

“Rip--I don’t know, Y/N!” He suddenly started getting his bearings. He’d woken up here too many times, and every time was even more horrifying.

“Really? Because we were just in the middle of having some god damn fun, and here you come out to piss all over it!” You nodded at his now wet crotch, he’d pissed himself as soon as he had come to.

“Y/N please, I didn’t mean to--” He begged you as he saw you going for your bat.

“Y’know you are SO lucky that you have Ripp’s body, or else I would gut you right here and now,” You hissed, revving up the bat in your hand.

“Okay first of all, ‘Ripper’ doesn’t have a body. His body was my body first!” Abel yelled in a semi forceful tone.

“Oooh, got some lip on you tonight, do ya Honest Abe?” You licked your lips with a smirk.

“A-All I’m saying is-- why, why don’t you just kill me? Put me out of my misery, please. It’d be better than cheating on my wife all the time, hurting my kids…” He began to blubber.

“A-And then his soul could go into another body, one who wouldn’t mind all of---this,” He gestured around the two bodies lying around the room. A guy and a girl, one for each of you. You and Ripper would like to have…’dinner’ first, as you’d call it before your hard core fucking. It was absolute heaven rolling around in other people’s blood.

“Yeah right, and risk his soul going into some rando?” You cackled. “What if it went into a chick? I ain’t carpet licking nothin!” You gagged.

“Or worse….” You made a horrified face. “What if it went into a fattie?!”

“P-P-Please, Y/N….” He pleaded with you.

“Unfortunately, for you Abel baby,” You pointed the bat into his chest, leading him backwards to the bed once more. “I enjoy your body. I know it, and it knows me,”

“B-But….” He tried to stop crying, but you scared the shit out of him. “Y-You don’t want to have sex with me, I’m just--”

“A fucking pussy?” You smirked.

“Yeah, I know baby, you ain’t gotta remind me. Your flaccid dick proves that real good,” You grabbed his limp penis, making him cry out in pain.

“Which is why...” You backed into him until he was laying on the bed and you were looming over him, the bat right under his chin. “....You’re gonna gimme back my baby boy right now, or I’mma beat him outta you,”

“No! Please!” He begged you, snot dripping down his pathetic sobbing mess of a face. It disgusted you to no end having to see Ripper’s face so fucking pitiful.

“It’s n-not like a magic trick, Y/N! I can’t---can’t control it,” He was heaving now with sobs.

“Fine, just know you brought this on yourself, Abel,” You raised the bat high above your head, ready to knock his nuts off, but when your swing came down towards his body, one of his arms stopped the bat dead in its tracks.

“...Now I know, you weren’t going to hit me with that, my little slut,” Ripper’s voice came from Abel’s body with an evil grin.

“Ripp,” You gulped. “N-No, baby I was trying to get you back from that bitch’s little mind prison,”

“Ah, I see,” He ripped the bat from your hands and tossed it across the room. “But see, you always seem to forget-- you damage this body, I damage YOU,”

His blood soaked hands were instantly around your throat as he roughly jammed his now rock hard erection into your throbbing pussy. He flipped you around so he was pounding on top of you, his grasp still tight around your neck.

His eyes filled with lustful glee as he saw your face turn purple, listening to your gagging made him come faster every time. He let out a mighty demonic roar as he ejaculated into you, choking you to the point of passing out. He let go right before you lost consciousness, and the wave of an orgasm washed over you like a ice cold shower, bringing you back from the brink. You screamed in absolute ecstasy, Ripp knew how to give you the best orgasms of your life.

After you were both done, Ripp grabbed your bloody face in his bloody hands, licking all of the girl corpse’s blood off your face and neck.

“Fuck you taste so good, my little whore…” He panted while he lapped up the blood like a hungry dog.

“Mmmm yes daddy, lick me clean,” You moaned in pleasure while sucking the blood off his chest and nipples.

“Wait-- Fuck, he’s...he’s winning again, Y/N,” Ripp stopped licking you and looked at you in anger. “FUCK!”

“No! Fuck him! Stay with me, baby…” You practically whined.

“....Until next time, my love,” He growled softly, in his own romantic way.

“Dammit,” You muttered, as you saw Abel’s face wash back over into his body.

“Oh my...Oh my GOD…” He realized he was now covered in blood from head to toe, and had recently ejaculated. His penis was sore from the rough fucking Ripp liked to do, it damaged his body more and more every time he came to in this God forsaken hell hole you called a house.

“Mmmm…” You flipped his quivering body over and licked his salty tears from his bloody face while he continued to sob.

“Y’know I don’t know what tastes better Abel, your cum or your tears,” You gave him a wicked smile.

“You’re the devil, you know that?” He glared at you.

“Nahhh, I just fuck him,” You winked as you tossed him a towel.

“Now, go take a shower and run home to the missus, wouldn’t want her finding out your dirty little secret…” You mocked him by putting a finger to his mouth with an evil cackle.

Abel did as you said and bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door, ready to take as many hot showers as he needed to to wash the sin off of him.

As you heard him crying in the shower, you began your usual clean up. You grabbed a bone saw and a horse trough of bleach, ready to dissolve the corpses. One day you’d make Abel help you with the clean up, when he could do it without vomiting.

While you were humming to yourself getting the tarps picked up, you felt a wet sensation on your face. Left over blood? You put a finger to your eye and pulled it back. You were...leaking.

“Fuck…” You growled, throwing down the tarp and going for a beer bottle in the corner.

You broke it on the floor and took a long shard, dragging it down your arm until you saw blood pooling out. The physical pain was good, it centered you. It distracted you from stupid things like emotions. You couldn’t sit around pining for your demon boyfriend, you had shit to do.

You must have stared at the blood for a little too long, as you started to feel dizzy from a lot of it now dripping across the floor. Before you knew what was happening, you felt Abel running over and wrapping a towel around your arm, rubbing your face.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” His voice sounded miles away.

“Wha--” You suddenly came to, realizing the dickhole was coddling you. “Get the fuck off of me, white bread!”

What would Ripp do if he could see you from in there? What if he saw you being weak like some fucking school girl?

“I was just trying to help--” He said softly.

“You can help me by getting the FUCK out of here,”

“...R-Right, sorry,” He quickly pulled on his shirt and pants, holding his shoes as he dashed down the stairs and out the front door.

“Fucking Christ…” You sighed, going to get some gauze to wrap your mutilated arm in before you started to clean up again.

“I hate Mondays.”

[trashcanband4]

The Revelation of the Other Woman Ch. 16

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Chapter Title: Settling in.  Pairing: Daryl/oc. Setting: The Prison. Wordcount: 4,837. Warning: None that I can thing of.

 After Rick, Daryl and Merle got safely inside the gates we all gathered in the cell block. Daryl, Carol and Beth stood on the perch and catwalk above while Michonne, Glenn, Rick, Maggie, Carl and I stood on the ground below. Hershel sat on the stairs. Merle was locked in the holding room. “We're not leaving.” Rick spoke with finality.

“We can't stay here.” Hershel argued the same case he had been arguing.

“What if there's another sniper?” Maggie asked. “A wood pallet won't stop one of those rounds.”

“We can't even go outside.” Beth spoke up as if what she said wasn't already understood by everyone.

“Not in the daylight.” Carol added.

“Rick says we're not running. We're not running.” Glenn spoke up still playing the part of leader even though Rick was back.

“No, better to live like rats.” Merle spoke up through the bar door holding him back from the rest of us.

“You got a better idea?” Rick asked him.

“Yeah, we should have slid out of here last night and lived to fight another day. But we lost that window, didn't we?” Merle asked. “I'm sure he's got scouts on every road out of this place by now.”

“We ain't scared of that prick.” Daryl spoke up from the catwalk, but I didn't even bother looking at him.

“Y'all should be. That truck through the fence thing? That was just him ringing the dinner bell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground around this place, shoot, he could just starve us out if he wanted to.” As much as I hated to admit it, Merle had a point.

“Let's put him in the other cell block.” Maggie said ringing a rag in her hands.

“No. He's got a point.” Daryl said.

“This is all you. You started this!” Maggie yelled at Merle who wasn't affected by it.

“What's the difference whose fault it is?” Beth spoke up loudly. “What do we do?”

“I said we should leave. Now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here.” Hershel said for the millionth time and Rick started to walk off. “Get back here!” he yelled at the ex-cop who stopped, but didn't turn to look at the old man. “You're slipping Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why. But now is not the time. You once said this is not a democracy. Now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear and do something.”

After Hershel yelled at Rick he just stared at him for a second then walked off. With him gone, people scattered. Most went to their cell's so that's what I did as well. I wiped the dust off of the metal mirror and looked at myself for the first time in months. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, my skin was darker than it used to be from the amount of sun I'd gotten during the winter and my hair had grown two inches, now touching my shoulders. I didn't look like the me I remembered. I was still studying myself when I heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Daryl standing with his arm propped up on the door frame.

A pain shot through my chest at the way he was looking at me. With hard eyes and straight lips that gave nothing away. He was different than I remembered, everyone was. I guess we'd all changed over the winter. “Whatever you're selling I don't want any.” I told him emotionlessly and crossed my arms over my chest.

“That your way of tellin' me to go away?” he asked quietly.

“If you're going to call me more names...yeah. That's exactly what I'm telling you.” I said as I sat down on my bed, pulled my legs up and hugged my knees to my chest.

“I ain't good at sayin' sorry.” he said quietly looking more like his old self.

“Good then don't say it. 'Cause I don't want to hear it.” I practically growled at him still hugging my knees to my chest.

“Joanna, I really am-”

“No.” I interrupted him letting go of my knees to scoot to the edge of the bed. “You don't get it. I dreamed about you. Every night that we weren't together was another dream that had you in it.” His face flushed at my words and it was cute, but it didn't put a damper on my anger. “At first they were nightmares. I blamed you for me getting left behind and stuck with that bitch Andrea. But then I realized that you told me to stay behind because you wanted me to be safe and I stopped being mad at you. The nightmares turned to good dreams. I would be hunkered down in a house somewhere and you would find me or vice versa.” my voice was shaking holding back tears. “We would find each other, you would wrap those amazing arms of yours around me and give me the best kiss of my life.” a tear slid down my cheek as I watched him cross his arms over his chest and lean back against the wall.

“Then imagine my surprise when my wildest dream came true. You found me, hugged me and kissed me and...” I closed my eyes and smiled sadly at the memory of his arms around me and his lips on mine. “Damn it that felt heavenly.” I opened my eyes and let the smile fade as I glared at him again. “So stupid me, I think that means you actually missed me as much as I missed you, that you wanted me back. But then your brother comes in the picture and you no longer give a damn about me. I'm just some weak, uppity, booty call. And you leave.” my eyes glared at his hand to his mouth, chewing on his cuticles. “That hurt.” I glared at him with tears slipping down my cheeks. “I never thought you would hurt me. So don't expect me to jump into your arms at the first “I'm sorry.” because it ain't gonna happen.”

He just stared at me for a second as if he were trying to think of something to say before he nodded and walked out. A few minutes later I heard people talking down stairs, practically under my cell so I walked out on the catwalk to see what was going on. “I didn't see any snipers out there, but we'll keep Maggie on watch.” Rick said to everyone.

“I'll get up in the guard tower, take out half them walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fence.” Daryl suggested.

“Or use some of the cars to put the bus in place.” Michonne suggested.

“We can't access the field without burning through out bullets.” Hershel added.

“So we're trapped in here. There's barely any food or ammo. Glenn added not helping one bit. Honestly his negativity was grating to everyone.

“We've been here before. We'll be all right.” Daryl tried.

“That's when it was just us. Before there was a snake in the nest.” Glenn directed at Daryl.

“Man, we gonna go through this again?” Daryl asked, getting in Glenn's face. ?Look, Merle's staying here. He's with us now. Get used to it.” he looked up at me then at the rest of the group. “All y'all.”

“Seriously, Rick, I don't think Merle-” Glenn started, but I interrupted him.

“Just stop it Glenn.” I spoke up from the cat walk as Daryl came up the stairs. “No one likes him being here, but as much as I hate to admit it, we need him. He knows The Governors tactics and he has military training. So just get off your high horse and deal with it.”

Glenn looked from me to Rick. “I can't kick him out.” Rick said with a shake of his head.

Rick's words seemed to piss Glenn off even worse than mine did. “I wouldn't ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you.” Glenn's words pulled a look out of Rick and I tilted my head at Glenn's words. Shane tried to kill Rick?

“He may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to his brother.” Hershel defended.

“What if we solve two problems at once?” Glenn asked. “Deliver Merle to the Governor. Bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce.”

“No.” I said as I walked down the stairs to be a better part of the conversation. “We're sacrificing people now?” I asked with a twisted faced look at Glenn. “Delivering him to The Governor will be no different than leaving him on that roof to die. We couldn't do that back then and we can't do this now.”

“Who put you in charge?” Glenn asked.

I leaned back and raised my brows. “I could ask you the same question mister high and mighty.”

“Guys, cut it out.” Hershel cut off our building argument. “Look, Glenn, Joanna's right. That's not who we are.”

“We're not gonna figure this out now. Let's take a break.” Rick suggested and Glenn and Hershel walked off. Rick jerked his head for me to follow him to his cell so I did. “What all happened out there over the winter? I know you said Michonne found you two while you were running from the farm, but I don't know much more than that.” he asked as he sat down on his bed.

I sat down in the chair in the room with a sigh. “Not a whole lot up until Woodbury. I answered vaguely. Just a lot of running, scavenging and hunkering down for as long as we could. Michonne and I are pretty good friends, we don't communicate a lot, but we work well together. She and Andrea got closer though.” I said with a shrug.

“What about you and Andrea?” he asked looking curious.

“Oh we still hate each other as much as we always did, if not more now.” I said with a small laugh before it faded. “Bitches can't befriend bitches I guess.”

“You're not a bitch.” he said with a shake of his head.

“Really? Because I feel like one after the things I just said to Daryl.” I said looking up from the floor to his blue eyes. I had forgotten how blue they were and the fact that I was apparently a sucker for them. His and Daryl's... the same color yet so different. “But that doesn't matter. What about you and the rest of the group? There's some things I've been wondering since I got here.”

“Like what?” he asked and I sat up straighter.

“Like I hear Shane tried to kill you?” I asked and he nodded with a sigh.

“The night the walkers came through and we all got separated, he killed Randall to lure me into the woods and kill me.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I killed him first.” he said before his dropped his hand and looked at me. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. “He wanted Lori, thought killing me was the only way to get her and Carl.”

“I'm sorry you had to do that.” I said and he waved me off. “So... I have to ask based off the way Beth spoke to me, did you and Lori ever work things out?”

He shook his head no. “What did Beth say to you?”

“She blames me for Lori's death.” he just tilted his head in confusion. “I guess she thinks that if I had never...been, with you that you and Lori would have been happier. I guess in her mind if you two were happier then you would have been there to save her or something.”

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Those aren't only her thoughts...” when he lifted his head to look at me I tilted my head to the side in a questioning manner. “She's just copying what I've heard Carl say.”

“Wait, Carl's mad at me too?” I asked getting tired of being everyone's whipping post.

“Yeah.” Rick sighed and dropped his hand from his face. “He didn't put two and two together until recently...after Lori...”

“I don't know how to handle this... Should we talk to him, try to explain things?” I asked as I shook my head in confusion.

“No, I'll talk to him and Beth. You don't deserve all that hate.” he said as he stood up.

“No, I think it's totally justified.” I sighed as I stood up as well. “I'm a home wrecker.”

“You know that's not true. Lori and I had our problems long before you even came along.” he said taking a step closer to grab my hand.

“I know, but...” I said giving his hand a small squeeze. When I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye I looked out of the cell to see Daryl walk by and glance in our direction. His stopped when he saw Rick's hand in mine and shook his head. I could hear a scoff as he walked off.

I dropped Ricks hand and scratched the back of my head. “What else have you been wondering about since you got back?”

“Daryl and Carol.” I said crossing my arms over my chest

“What about them?” he asked.

“She seemed really upset to hear that he didn't come back and then she blamed me for him leaving like I pushed him into it or something.” I said and he just looked at me. “Are they...together?” I cautiously asked.

“Honestly, I don't know. It's hard to tell with him.” Rick answered with a shoulder shrug. “You'll have to ask one of them.” I sighed and placed my head in my hands. He placed his hand on my back. “Hey,” I looked up at him and he gave me a small smile, “If I hadn't said it yet I'm glad you're alive.”

I gave him a small smile in return and he engulfed in a hug. “I'm glad you're alive too.” I said with a small laugh then pulled out of the hug. His hands lingered on my neck and mine on his sides. In a split second every tender intimate moment we'd ever had flooded my mind. Then came the bad memories and all the arguments. That made me remember why I chose Daryl, why I love Daryl more than anything or anyone. So I let him go and gave him a sad smile. “Thanks for filling me in. I'm gonna go to my cell and try to process things.” he let me go without a word.

Daryl's cell was on the way to mine and Carol's voice made me stop just outside of it. “This is a tomb.” I heard Daryl say as I made sure I couldn't be seen by them.

“That's what T-dog called it. I thought he was right till you found me.” Carol said and it got quiet for a few seconds. “He's your brother, but he's not good for you. Don't let him bring you down. After all, look how far you've come.” she said making him laugh. God how I'd missed that sound. It got quiet and I was about to go to my cell when Carol's words stopped me. “I've never thought Joanna was good for you either. She's too weak, those panic attacks of hers...they'll only slow you down and make you weak.” I felt my teeth grind together as I bit down, forcing back more tears and made myself walk by as if I hadn't heard a thing.

About an hour later I heard some one approach my cell and I thought it would be Daryl or Rick, but instead, it was Merle. “What do you want?” I asked sitting up to pull my knees to my chest.

“Just thought that if we're gonna be under the same roof, we should clear the air.” he stated and I just stared at him. “The whole hunting you two down thing... that was just business. Carrying out orders.”

“Sure, whatever, just don't hurt my people.” I said and he just smirked at me. “What?”

“Good taste.” he answered making me immediately think of what he said back at Woodbury. How his brother had good taste. He just smirked again as he walked away.

I was still in my cell when I heard Rick yell for Daryl, Merle and some others to join him outside because Andrea had been spotted. So I ran out behind Michonne and watched as Rick let her in a treated her like the traitor she was. He pushed her to her knees and took her things before she confirmed that she was alone and she was eventually let into the prison, but just the holding room. Andrea greeted Carol first. “Hershel, oh my god.” she sighed, spotting the old man's lack of a limb. “I can't believe this.” she said as she looked around the room and let go of Carol. “Where's Shane?” he asked still looking around the room before she looked at Rick.

“Why should you care? You're sleeping with The Governor now right?” I asked earning a glare from her before she looked at Rick who simply shook his head and looked away from her.

“And Lori?” she asked and Rick just gave her a hard look.

“She had a girl. Lori didn't survive.” Hershel spoke up.

“Neither did T-Dog.” Maggie added and I made a mental note to find out exactly how he died.

“I'm so sorry.” she said before her eyes landed on Carl. “Carl...” the boy just glared at her sympathy. Then she turned to Rick. “Rick I-” she started to walk over to Rick but he backed away from her. So she looked around the room at other people. “You all live here?”

“Here and the cell block.” Glenn answered.

“There?” she asked pointing to the door to the cell block. “Well, can I go in?” she asked.

Rick stepped in her way. “I won't allow that.”

“I'm not the enemy here, Rick.” Andrea defended.

“No you're just sleeping with the enemy.” I said and this time she didn't even look at me.

“We had that field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up.” Rick said still standing in her way.

“He said you fired first.” Andrea defended.

I wanted to point out that he was a liar, but I knew I wasn't the person to point that out. She wouldn't listen to me. She never did. “Well, he's lying.” Rick answered and she just stared at him.

“He killed an inmate who survived in here.” Hershel spoke up.

“We liked him. He was one of us.” Daryl said making her attention turn to him.

“I didn't know anything about that.” Andrea said with a head shake. “As soon as I found out I came. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot-out.” she said looking around at everyone.

“That was days ago.” Glenn said and now I agreed with his angry tone.

“I told you I came as soon as I could.” Andrea defended herself and looked around at everyone just to be met with glares and looks of mistrust. She turned to me “What have you told them?” she asked angrily.

“I didn't have to tell them anything.” I said from where I sat at the metal picnic table.

“You poisoned them with lies about me.” she yelled.

“She hasn't bad mouthed ya.” Daryl of all people defended me from where he sat at the table across the room from me.

“I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?” she asked getting mad at everyone.

“He almost killed Michonne and he would have killed us.” Glenn started.

“With his finger on the trigger.” Andrea yelled with a point at Merle. “Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?” she asked then sighed and placed her head in her hands for a second. “I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am trying to bring us together. We have to work this out.”

“There's nothing to work out.” Rick said cutting her off. “We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will.”

“We can settle this.” she said taking a step closer to Rick.

“God, Andrea!” I yelled at her. “When are you going to open those ignorant eyes of yours and realize that there is no settling this. He will not stop until we are dead, that is just the kid of man he is. Merle kidnapped us, but it was under the orders of your boy toy. He is sick and twisted.” I said walking over to get in her face.

“There is room at Woodbury for you.” she said not giving up on the idea of peace.

“You're blind as a freaking bat.” I scoffed and walked back to the table.

“There's room for all of you.” she said looking around at everyone now.

Merle laughed at her. “You know better than that.”

“What makes you think this man wants to negotiate?” Hershel asked. “Did he say that?”

“No.” Andrea answered.

“Then why did you come here?” Rick asked.

“Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers. They're training to attack.” Andrea warned.

“I'll tell you what. Next time you see Philip, you tell him I'm gonna take his other eye.” Daryl warned back.

“We've taken too much shit for too long.” Glenn spoke up. “He wants a war? He's got one.”

Andrea turned to Rick. “Rick? If you don't sit down and try to work this out, I don't know what's gonna happen. He has a whole town.” she heaved out a breath as she turned toward us. “Look at you. You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore.”

“You want to make this right, get us inside.” Rick said walking around her to be in her line of sight.

“No.” Andrea said shaking her head rapidly.

“Then we got nothing to talk about.” Rick walked around her.

“There are innocent people.” she yelled after him trying to get him to stop.

With Rick gone Michonne and Andrea went outside to talk. So with her out of the way I went back to my cell.

I don't know when she left, I didn't go see her off like everyone else did. I didn't even leave my cell until I heard everyone getting together down stairs and the smell of warm food hit my nose. It turned out to just be rice, cooked with a chicken bullion cube for flavor. It wasn't much, but I sat on the floor next to Michonne to eat it. Not long after I finished my bowl Beth started singing. After listening to the song enough to recognize a pattern and pick up the chorus I started to sing along. “You gotta hold on, hold on. You gotta hold on. Take my hand I'm standin' right here. You gotta hold on.” I sang back up catching a few people's attention, but I didn't look at them. Beth glared at me, but I ignored her too. She wasn't going to put a damper on my fun.

When the song was over most people turned in for the night. So I followed suit. As I passed Daryl's cell he spoke up, stopping me. “So it's you and Rick again, huh?”

I stopped and leaned my back against the frame of his door. "Maybe." I replied with a shoulder shrug.

"I ain't interested in none of your games." He practically growled as he sat up on the side of his bunk.

"Are you and Carol together?" I finally asked and he looked at me like I was crazy. "She was more broken up about you leaving the group than everyone else and people around here seem to put your names together a lot. On top of that you two were close at the farm, so what am I supposed to expect when I find you." I explained deciding to leave out the fact that I heard her badmouthing me and Daryl didn't defend me. He just stared at me, biting his nails. “Was I supposed to expect you to just wait around for me to show up out of the blue? I mean as much as I missed you and longed to be with you I supposed you would move on at some point.”

"Did you move on?" He answered flatly.

“Oh, yeah, didn't you hear? Andrea, Michonne and I got real cozy on the road together.” I popped off and he rolled his eyes at me with a scoff. “No, I didn't.” I answered truthfully. “Have you?”

“Na. She's just a friend.” he answered quietly.

“Good.” I told him with a nod and pushed off of the door frame to walk away.

“You gonna give me a straight answer 'bout you and Rick?” he asked stopping me and I turned to see that he had stood up.

“He's just a friend.” I answered with a sigh. “Now if you don't mind I'd like to get some sleep.” I started once again to walk off but he grabbed my hand pulling me to a stop.

“Sleep here.” he suggested, not dropping my hand.

“Why, so I can be your booty call?” I asked sarcastically.

He bit his lip and shook his head. “Cause I love ya, Woman.”

“W-what?” I asked too shocked for his words to fully sink in.

“Come on, I ain't good at this shit, don't make me say it again.” he practically begged.

What he had done and what he had called me...it was all washed away by those three little words. Three little words that when said separately or with other words between them meant nothing. But when one sentence was composed of just these words they seemed to heal the worst of wounds and mend broken hearts. So what did I do when they finally sank in?

Laughter burst from my lips and I fell back to lean against the door frame again. When I managed to stop laughing I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Even in my best dreams you never said that.” I whispered then looked at him to see him looking at me like if I rejected him he would crack. “I love you too.”

A smile spread across his lips as he closed the space between us grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into him. The kiss was hard and passionate. A moan escaped my lips when his tongue found mine starting a battle with no winner. His hand moved from the back of my head to grip my sides and lift me up and pin me to that wall. My legs wrapped around his waist and my fingers embedded themselves into his soft hair.

Thirty minutes later we lay on his bed sweaty and breathless, but still tangled together like an unkempt line of string. “How do you do that?” I asked, not looking at him, but comparing the size of our hands instead.

“Do what?” he asked quietly.

“Make me lose my mind but stay perfectly grounded at the same time.” I said and he scoffed at me.

“Ya ain't makin' since.” he grumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, I guess my minds still a little lost.” I chuckled as I dropped his hand and rolled over to look at him. “It has to be, because I feel crazy for giving you a second chance.” I explained, resting my hand on his taunt chest. “I felt something for you before, I wasn't sure what it was, if it was love or lust or if it was just simply trust, and companionship. So when you told me I was nothing to you and chose to leave me, it hurt but I lived. Barely, but I did. And now, after tonight, after we said what we said? You have my heart, you're capable of destroying me.”

“Ain't gonna do that.” he promised, low and gruff as he placed his hand on my cheek and ran his thumb over my cheekbone. “Can't make the same mistake twice.” from my face his hand slid down to my neck where he touched the mark his brother had left on me. “Let's get some sleep, missed havin' ya by my side.”

I smiled to myself as I tuned my back to him and he tossed his arm over my side. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Ballerina.”

Tags:  @jodiereedus22 @mtngirlforever @zzeacat @winchester-angel @moodygrip @hells-mistress @lighthope08 @sapphire1727 @luisadontcurr @ilkaeliseb @twdeadfanfic @ravengalaxia @1lluminaticonfirmed @my-current-fandom-is @coffeebooksandfandom @lonewolf471 @gruffle1 @mblaqgi @calumstuffs @beltzboys2015-blog @neontiger007 @sourwolf-sterek32 @dixonluvv @dotslabyrinth @kayln97 @art-flirt @cbarter @chocolatealmondmilkk @chocolatealmondmilk-blog  @daryldixonandfrogs @feartheendlesssummer @brooklynalpha @topsykretts92

[zinnia-the-rabbit]

    Bakudeku oneshot: "I'll love you for a thousand years." "And I'll love you for a thousand more"

Uh,idk what this au is called.. probably soulmate au???? Idk,man. I found the concept on twitter and I needed to write about it.

Pretty long story because I'm so invested in this au. It makes me happy and sad and i love it so much. I hope you guys do to!

💮Fluff💮

🔞 smutty implications🔞, but nothing actually happens.

Sad ending, trust me. I teared up,and I'm the one writing it. I had it all planned out and I still wasn't ready. So, good luck.

Summary: The gods cursed our little wonder duo. They are soulmates,but in every lifetime that they find each other, the gods separates them. Basically-

Enjoy!!!!

🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚

Third person bc I wasn't bothered to write in first person today)

    No matter how many times they've met, they are always taken from each other,no matter what. They always fell in love, and it always pained them when they were forced apart.

    The first time it happened was thousands of years ago, back when dragons roamed and knights saved princesses from the evil clutches of their wicked mother.

    A time when fairies and nymphs danced around deep in the forest,hidden away from the unforgiving eyes of the humans who wanted nothing more then to captures and sell them for profit.

    This, is where we meet our our beloved boys.

    Katsuki had stolen from a mighty god's shrine, taking some of the offerings to give as his own to a certain little witch, wishing to finally win the greenette over.

    He never believed in the gods. No,they were just stories made to scare children straight. Make sure they followed all the rules to a 'T'.

    Well,not Katsuki.

    He thought of himself as a god, really. Tall, strong,fierce  red eyes that could kill a bear with a single,deadly gaze that was as sharp as a dagger. He was the perfect picture of godly.

    "If you don't get off your high horse and show our gods some respect,they will surely smite you!" ,His mother would scold him, smacking the side of his head with a bruising force.

    He would only scoff in annoyance, and go about his way.

    Silly,silly little Katsuki..he didn't know the gods were watching,and were most certainly unpleased with his disrespectful behavior.

    Katsuki stepped over yet another large root that descended out of the mossy,wet earth below his feet. He kept his bag of offerings slung over his shoulder, grip tight just in case some fairies tried to steal the bag. The little sparkly pests.

    He had grabbed anything he could without getting caught; rich herbs good for creating spells, jewelery lined the only the most expensive stones, rubies,perls, diamonds, emeralds.

    He took several of the finest cloaks he could find. Some velvet and lined lined with the fluffy coat of a grey wolf. Some silk with flowers beautifully sewn into the comforting fabric.

    He had a smaller bag attached to his belt, just next to the sheath in which his sword was placed neatly and securely.

    This bag was filled with food, sweet things for the smaller,green haired male. Honey buns, cinnamon rolls, many, many handfuls of green tea mochi that he knew the witch loved more then life itself. He grabbed moon pies, macaroons, super cubes, and a couple of regular little meat buns.bHe even made sure to get at least two or three of those adorable little tudor cheesecakes.

    Did I mention this man was head over heels for our little Izuku?

    He was soon standing in front of a small cottage, smiling as he could see little puffs of grey and white smoke erupting from the chimney.

    The witch was home.

    Good.

    He walked up to the old mahogany door and knocked firmly, yet gentle,in a way.

    This cottage was old, you could tell from miles away. Long winding vines overtook an entire wall, and,in the spring, would bloom with small flowers.There were sprouts of plants peeking their way through the small cracks in the roof,and he had half a nerve to climb up and pull them out. But, Izu liked them,so he wouldn't. It's not like the roof leaked anyway, which amazed him, really.

    Some of the stones that made up the comforting little home were chipped,and others had chunks missing from the years spent unprotected from mother nature's rath. He still loved it all, though. This was like his second home.

    The door slowly creeked open and a head full of green, unruly culrs poked its way out of the safety of the home, big emerald eyes meeting Katsuki's ruby ones.

    "Kacchan!", The little witch smiled, swinging the door open and running into the taller males arms.

    "Hey,there my darling little spell caster. I brought you some things.", Katsuki hummed, smiling warmly.

    Izuku pulled away, looking at him sceptically.

    "Are you still trying to court me?", He asked leading the man inside.

    He was very much aware that the blond liked him, and he felt the same..he just wanted to tease and reject him just to get on his nerves.

    It was a fun little game they liked to play...Cat and mouse,if you will.

    The blond just chuckled, pulling the door closed.

    He could tell the little witch had been busy before he had arrived. His large black cauldron was hanging over a live fire and filled with a purplish blue liquid that was bubbling quietly.

    It smelled of lavender and citrus, maybe from a-

    He was quickly shook from his thoughts as the greenette bent down to pick up a few loose papers from the floor before standing up straight and placing them on his desk.

    Damn..

    He was always getting distracted by those wide hips whenever the witch was around, and he just couldn't help it. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to grab at his slim waist and grip his green culrs tightly, as he bent him over his desk and mark up his neck.

    He thought about that often.. maybe too often..While he's at it,he could probably convince Izuku to bounce on his-

    "Kacchan? Hellloooo?" A sweet little voice snaps him out of his little day dream and he has to look down to see the small male standing right in front of him.

     "Did you hear a word I just said?" Izuku huffed, crossing his arms.

    Katsuki almost zoned out again when he saw the little heart shaped freckle that was delicately placed on Izu's right cheek that he just loved so much.

    "Uh,no, sorry. I was trying to figure out what that other smell is. I can only pinpoint lavender,and I think orange?" Katsuki tilted his head to the side.

    "Well, you'd be correct." Izuku had hummed, smiling, "Ive been trying to change up a few potions and make them smell lovely so anyone who passed by won't know they are potions."

    Katsuki let out a small hum back before walking into the kitchen and setting the bags on the nice wooden table. Izuku followed behind him, humming.

    The blond man opened one of the bags and pulled out a necklace, carefully putting it around the smaller's neck gently. He kissed the greenette's forehead gently,which caused him to blush deeply.

    "You're adorable." Katsuki smiled.

    They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Izu sitting on the table and Katsuki standing between his legs, cuddling each other close.

    "I accept.." Izu says gently, nuzzling his nose against the blonds jaw lightly.

    Katsuki paused, looking at him.

    Was...was Izuku finally accepting his feelings...?

    The blond haired male gripped Izu's shoulders and pulled him back, looking him right in his emerald eyes.

    "You do know what you're getting into, right?" Katsuki smirked, grabbing the wide rim of Izuku's pointed, black hat and places it on the table.

    "Of course I do."

    That's all it took for the taller man to lean in and capture the witch's lips in his own in a sickeningly sweet kiss that the greenette happily returned.

    Alas, that fateful kiss was just what the gods needed.

    That moment of pure love is what the gods would use against them.

    They pulled away, and just as Katsuki went to speak the mahogany door slammed open. Izuku gasped and clung to the taller, a fearful expression as several knights rushed inside.

    "So, it was true! There is a witch!" One of them shouted and Katsuki pulled the male in question close.

    "Ah-ha! And the little non-believing thief!" Another exclaimed as the men in the mental armor came twords them.

    How..how had they found them...?

    Katsuki kept his lover held tightly in his arms and growled as a few of the knights pulled them apart forcefully. He thrashed and kicked, trying desperately to get away and protect Izu.

    This wasn't supposed to happen...

    The knights pulled them outside despite their objections and thrashing.

    "O-ow! You're hurting me!" Izuku cried out as he was forced to kneel down.

     Sure enough,there were deep purpling bruises starting to form on his exposed arms,the men holding him way to tightly.

    "Let go of him!" Katsuki growled, but his demand fell on deaf ears.

    The two were facing each other with their wrists bound behind their backs. Izuku had tears rolling down his cheeks and he was shaking.

    This couldn't be real.

    "How did you find us?!" Katsuki shouted, trying to free himself. Our blond boy was beyond pissed.

     "Easy. A little fairy told us." A knight said, amused as a little fairy with spikey black hair, and sharp blue eyes fluttered over. He had deep blue wings and purple markings across his body.

    "D-dabi?!" Izuku gasped out. That little fairy was his friend...well,he was supposed to be.

    "I'm sorry, Izuku.." The tiny raven haired male sighed, acting sad. He smiled widely, though, as a knight handed him a mochi.

    The fairy gave Izu a small part on the head before flying away, humming a little tune. Katsuki couldn't believe his eyes. They little fairy was always around.

    He always helped Izu with his spells. He helped Baku find his way at night with his vibrant blue glow. Then he betrayed them..? That little bitch.

    "This is why I hate fairies! You're nothing but scum!" Katsuki growled, thrashing around violently.

    This was bullshit.

    He's gonna stomp on that fairy.

    He's gonna eat him whole.

    He's gonna tear his little wings off.

    He's gonna-

    "By order of the king, you are both to be put to death."

    Katsuki stilled.

    "Both of you have been proven guilty of several crimes, including witchcraft and stealing from the gods."

    No. Nonono! He just got Izu to be his for real, he..he can't die. They can't die!

    Izuku let out a loud sob at the sound of a sword being pulled from its protective sheath,and the distress in his voice caused Katsuki to tear up.

    "I-izuku, my little spell caster, close you're eyes." Katsuki instructed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the smaller's. Izuku did as told, letting his eyes flutter shut as he tried to calm his breathing.

    They both couldn't contain a yelp when a tip of a sword touched each of their backs, the duo staring to tremble.

    This couldn't be happening.. This was all too surreal.

  "We aren't heartless,so you may say your goodbyes." One of the men hummed, sounding sincere.

    Katsuki didn't know what to say...how how do you sum up years of love and admiration into a bitter goodbye?

    They opened their eyes to look at each other, Izu giving his lover a smile,a smile that held so many emotions behind it.

    Katsuki gave a small smile back, letting out a broken chuckle. Their last words to each other were those of truth, a promise they'd keep forever.

    Those knights returned to the kingdom with sour faces. They felt bad for having to end the lovers in such a way. They were mad at themselves.

    No matter how many times they meet, Izuku and Katsuki are always tragically separated.

    No matter how many times they fall in love, they can never experience each other too long, because it could all end in the blink of an eye.

    But, no matter what, they always depart from their beloved with the same words tingling their tounges;

"I'll love you for a thousand years."

"And I'll love you for a thousand more"

[patroclus-heel]

This is for Hector, you big fat prince bitch nasty ass ugly stinking trojan. Why the FUCK you slay Achilles mother fuckin man?! With your garbage ass big fat oompa loompa looking ass army. BITCH Akkie's coming up there to beat the fuck outta you bitch, and DONT EVEN pray to the gods today cause he gonna come up there unexpexted and wait on ya mother fuckin ass. BITCH He coming to beat the fuck outta you BITCH cause you did that shit on PURPOSE with your wimpy ass rag tagged ass army mother fucking watching bitch. Watch, now he's coming up there to fuck a bitch up, I'm telling you watch. He knows where the fuck you live, and he's gonna wait on you, and beat ya fucking ass BITCH And he gonna show you not to mess with goddamn Achilles mother fucking man, bitch. That's the first thing you did and you got him fucked up cause bitch WE ALL KNEW WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON WITH THEM. You trojan mother fuckers hate to see couples doing good or being happy or doing anything for they mother fuckin selves. Ugly fat trojan bitch. Watch. Im telling you, he's coming up there to beat ya mother fuckin ass dark haired horse shit smelling ass bitch. WATCH. Hes coming, to fuck you up, cause you got him fucked up. Gonna sit up there and try to do that little war shit, bitch you ain't never gonna be better than Akkie and now you gone and signed your own death certificate and dug your own grave, making a man who was gonna spare you hold his dead lover. AND YOU WERE walking around there with some royal ass mothering fucking armor looking all like you own the place, smelling all like you work the stables. And you gonna TRY to not answer this message. HES COMING TO FUCK YOU UP. I'm telling you, you better remember half the gods are against you and when that man gets his sweet justice aint nobody gonna vouch for your bitch ass when your time comes. Wanna sit up and play us with out feeling, wanna sit and play us with our feeling when YALL REALLY GOT HELEN RUNNING ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE. Try to do that bitch little do you know little do you know, little do you know HES COMING TO BEAT THE FUCK OUTTA YOU i promise you that, I promise you that he's coming to fuck you up you fat stinky trojan bitch dark haired sheep shit mouth, nasty mouth ass bitch. You stink. You smell like fucking cheese and you got that high and mighty ass attitude, he gonna beat that attitude up out you bitch. Watch you treat everybody like thats all these old gay greek people that you do like that you in the wrong position you trojan ass homophobic ass royal bitch. Thats why don't nobody fuck with you cause you high and mighty, and you a home wrecking bitch sit up there and did all this shit AND WE ALL KNEW WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON gonna tell me it was you or him when we all knew why you was sparred why the FUCK would he lie about some shit like that when it came from the mother fucking gods. Watch, he finna come there snd beat your mother fucking ass. Im telling you HE WAS GONNA BE THE FIRST HAPPY ONE you fucking-

[blessedbucky]

money power glory

pairing: skinny!steve x plus size!reader

summary: it’s 1921 and prohibition is in full swing. there’s an overwhelming demand for alcohol and steve, one of new york’s most notorious mobsters, wants to cash in. you and your product present the perfect opportunity

warnings: steve’s a mobster and reader is a bootlegger so obvious mentions of illegal activities, alcohol, oral (female receiving), squirting, daddy kink (if you squint really hard)

a/n: please be kind to me this is my first ever reader insert. anyway @gagmebucky said give me mobster!steve and my brain went HOLD MY FUCKING BEER. it’s mostly just me being a history buff and spiraling out of control with plot and having little smut. tagging @strawberrylovessebby and @angel-fire and @genderfluiddiscogay because they asked and i'm a weak bitch for them

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The very first time that Steve meets you, you’re on the back of a massive stallion. The enormous beast is barreling toward Steve and you don’t seem to be making any attempt at reigning the horse in to either make it slow down or move in another direction that’s not straight at him. Steve assumes this is a ploy your father’s come up with to intimidate him and Steve hasn’t gotten to where he is by tucking his tail between his legs and backing down in the face of danger and death. So, while his men curse and scramble around to the other side of the car that’s out of the way of your warpath, Steve straightens, squares his chin, and stands his ground.

Steve Rogers is one stubborn son of a bitch and if he’s going to be working with your family the way he wants to, it’s best you all know that now up front.

Your horse is probably about a foot away from Steve when you finally command it to stop. You’re dramatic and it one last show to intimidate Steve, you make the horse reel back on its hindlegs, kicking up dirt and neighing so loud it echoes. The animal’s hot breath fans out across Steve’s face for a moment before you tug at the reins, make a noise, and the horse dutifully turns to the side allowing Steve a better look at you.

Down here, hidden away in the slopes and hills of the Appalachian Mountains, you’re the opposite of the women that try to flock to the sides of Steve and his men. You’ve kept your hair long, going against the modern fashion. There’s a bandana around your head, keeping your hair out of your face. There’s sweat on your brow and smudges of dirt on your plump cheeks. Even dressed in your dirtied work overalls, he can see you’re all curves—wide hips, thick thighs, soft stomach, plush ass, and he could wax poetry about your oh-so-generous chest.

Steve’s bullheaded, but he’s not stupid. Atop your horse, staring down at him with a raised brow, he’ll admit that you’re the most gorgeous woman he’s ever met. And…he has to unfortunately also admit to himself that you’re off-limits. He really can’t drop the ball on a potentially lucrative business deal by fucking a partner’s daughter.

Steve thinks you’ve both sized each other up enough, so he breaks the silence with a polite, “Ma’am.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Mister Rogers,” you reply with your southern drawl. Your voice is also sickly sweet. “I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on all y’all.” I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on a skinny little thing like you, you don’t say but Steve hears all the same.

Steve shoots you the same grin he wears when he’s smashing men’s skulls in. You’re a fighter. As much a hellion as that horse you’re riding. Guess Bucky’s been right all these years, saying Steve gets his rocks off on danger.

“Girl,” your father’s voice booms. He’s in a matching pair of overalls, a pitchfork over his shoulder, storming toward you and Steve. “Lord, you’ve got your momma rolling in her grave, treating guests this way,” your father scolds and you duck your head like a proper, chastised southern belle. Your father can’t see the mischievous twinkle in your eye, though. “The hell’d you get that horse out for? You want to break your neck? He ain’t trained enough. Go put that horse back in the barn, wash up, get started on supper, and then you’ll meet this fella you asked to come down here.”

“Yes, daddy.” Steve’s eyes glaze over at hearing the word daddy leave those sinfully beautiful lips of yours. He’s thinking with his dick too much to completely process your father’s words and their meaning. His eyes are still locked on you as you dismount the horse. You flash Steve a smile, dangerously sharp, and he thinks he might be in love.

When you’ve disappeared into a nearby barn, your father claps Steve on the shoulder. “Aw, hell, I’m sorry, Rogers. I swear that girl’s got manners. She’s probably tired. We’ve been workin’ all day to get this corn picked. Way she was making it sound, you got here faster than she thought you would.” He gives Steve a slap on the back now. “Well, go on inside and make yourself comfortable. She’ll talk details with yah over supper.”

Steve blinks, confused. “Sir?”

Your father gives Steve a shit-eating grin. “Ain’t you heard, Rogers? You’ll be talking to my girl. She’s the one that handles the business. All I do is go up in them there woods, sit around with my buddies, drinking while we wait for the moonshine to cook. She sets up all the deals, handles the bookkeeping—�� your father pauses and innocently asks, “Didn’t she say all this in them letters she’s been writing?”

No. No, you did not and your father knows that. It looks like troublemaking runs in your blood.

You’re waiting for Steve on the porch—face washed clean, dirt scrubbed away from your hands, bandana stripped from your hair that’s now pulled back with a white ribbon, and wearing in a simple yet pretty cornflower blue dress. You hold the door open, stepping to the side, still smiling at Steve in that predatory way. “Why don’t you come on in the kitchen and we’ll talk business while I’m cooking?”

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A year ago, in 1920, Steve had watched the high and mighty people clamor out onto the streets of New York to pour out and smash their bottles of liquor on the ground. It’d marked the official start to Prohibition and all Steve could think about during the whole spectacle was potential.

Of course, it wasn’t Steve and his crew alone who tried to cash in on the overwhelming demand for booze that was declared illegal. People are always going to get their hands on what they want. There have been tales of men who pass out miniature stills that allow people to make their own gin right there in their homes. Bathtub gin, he hears it’s called. You scoff and turn your nose up at the mention of it and call it exactly what it is—rotgut. You and your father are craftsmen in the art of alcohol. You give people what they want. Quality.

Slowly but surely, you’ve been working to spread your family’s name around. You explain to Steve that your father has been making moonshine since you were a child to make extra cash on the side. When your mother unexpectedly passed, he decided you were old enough to learn how to do it yourself. But like any small-town girl, you want more.

“And once Prohibition hit, cousin, business was a-booming,” you cheekily remark.

Steve wants to come to the rescue. He wants to make you a partner. You’ve got a high-class product that people will scramble to get their hands on. It’s not that watered-down shit he’s had to swallow down at speakeasies. He’ll pay to bring your business to New York. That, you argue, is not as easy as he makes it out to be, and shit goes downhill from there.

You and Steve spend hours arguing. Steve thinks you’re just wanting to be difficult for the sake of being difficult, but you bring up a lot of fair points. Stacking up problems that Steve assures can be tackled with enough money. There’s a reason you and all the other bootleggers are stranded where you are—you need good, dry corn. The hard waters of Kentucky, rich with limestone and other minerals, make the process of making moonshine easier. What about the copper stills you need? Plain steel just won’t do for you.

It’s getting late in the night. You and Steve are both red-faced and as spitting mad as you were at the start. Your father had left you two alone hours ago, shaking his head and snickering, knowing you can handle your own. “Jesus Christ,” you snarl suddenly after staring out the window at the nighttime skies. You stomp over to grab his upper arm. “Keep running your mouth, I don’t care, but you’re gonna have to do it while I’m working.”

By working, you mean speeding through the dark and winding roads of Appalachia in your pride and joy, a Ford car, with a crate of mason jars between you two. Before it gets hot, you explain that local coppers have been trying and failing for years to catch your father in the act. Steve knows the cops don’t think a little thing who looks and talks as sweet as you could possibly be the brains behind the operation. The cops show up on your tail and you cackle before you put on the speed. Steve forgets all about his anger, watching you drive like a maniac under the moonlight, wind whipping your hair around your face. With his backroom deals, greasing the hands of cops with money, he’d forgotten the thrill of this. The chase.

You swerve off the road, parking your car on a little remote trail the cops obviously have no idea about. You both watch as the cops speed away, chasing nothing but a ghost. Well, with how expertly you’ve been driving, they’ve been chasing ghosts all night long. After you both come down from the adrenaline high, you say, “I don’t think this’ll work, Steve. I want it to, but…it ain’t a good move. It’ll be more trouble than it’s all worth.” And you sound genuinely upset about that.

Steve’s not ready to let a woman like you slip out of his fingers just yet. “Why don’t you come up to New York with me?”

You scoff. It’s a bitter sound. “I’m not some blushing virgin that you can get one over on. I know good and damn well what a kept woman is and that ain’t the life for me. I won’t lay around in your bed and spread my legs for you while you take over what I’ve worked hard at building my whole life.”

Steve slides a little closer to you and pushes some hair behind your ear. The late hour makes him brave…or stupid, if he’s been reading your signals wrong. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more than to have you in my bed.” You turn your head toward him and he can feel your burning glare more than he can see it in the moonlight. “But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted you as a partner. I want you to come to New York and see what I have and what I can do.”

“I know this may be hard for a city boy like you to believe, but not everything is better in the city.”

“I can show you a few things we do better in the city,” Steve suggests lowly.

Slowly, you turn your head and your nose brushes past his. He can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. “You usually this friendly with your partners?”

“My best friends, Bucky and Sam, they’ve both fucked me a few times over the years. You’ll learn this fast, honey, but I may have a thing for pretty people that can put me in my place.” He wants to pretend he didn’t hear the hitch in your breath. He leans back and gives you some space. Oh, well. He’s not going to lie about who he is. “You can tell me to fuck off.”

“I think we need to talk about your business practices there, Rogers. I was buried between Minnie Dean’s legs and you don’t see me giving her the recipe to daddy’s moonshine.” Steve breaks out into a fit of quiet laughter. You try to be serious, but you instantly cave and giggle along with him. It really is a beautiful sound.

“You win,” you breathe out after the two of you have gotten control of yourselves. “I’ll go with you. I can bring some corn. You can get a copper still. We’ll see what we can do with the water up there.” You reach out, playfully tap his cheek once, but your hand lingers on his skin. “Get out of the car, Brooklyn. Let’s see what you got.”

Steve lures you out of the car and into the cool autumn night. You two don’t stray very far. Steve leads you around to the front of the car and presses you down against the hood. He tugs at that pretty little ribbon in your hair and you sigh so beautifully when he runs his hand through your locks. Your hair fans out across the steel, glinting in the moonlight.

Pretty words won’t work on you, but you look like a fucking angel. Then, finally, he’s leaning down and kissing you. It doesn’t surprise him your kisses are biting, stinging, a warning that you’re as dangerous as him. Here you are, looking like an angel, but you’re so obviously a serpent underneath the surface. Father Donahue would have some words about a woman like you. Lucifer, a fallen angel, the vile snake come to lead a lamb astray. Steve hasn’t been an innocent lamb in a long time, though.

His mouth drops down to nip at the delicate skin of your neck and you tilt your head back, baring your throat. “Minnie Dean ever return the favor?”

“That asshole brother she’s got came too close for comfort and spooked her off.” You chuckle dryly. “If what you really wanna know if anyone’s ever had their mouth on me down there, answer’s no. I’d hate to suffocate someone with my thighs and have ‘em die on me before I get mine.”

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, isn’t that a fucking crime? On one hand, yeah, he’s going to be puffing up with pride after tonight because he’s the first person to ever get a taste of that sweetness between your thighs. On the other hand, he wants to kill the people who haven’t treated you like the treasure you are. “Even if you could do something like that, I think I’d still die the happiest man in the world.”

Then, Steve sinks down to his knees in front of you. He carefully settles his hands on your calves and you hiss at the touch of his icy fingers on your flesh. It’s a common complaint. He’ll let your skin warm him up. He slides his hands up your legs, teasingly slow, and begins pushing the fabric of your dress up and out of the way the higher he goes. Steve greedily takes it all in, watching and touching all this smooth, soft skin that’s slowly revealed to him.

Being a good, helpful girl, you take the bunched fabric of your dress from Steve, clutching it tightly in one hand. Your other hand fists in Steve’s hair when he tugs your panties down your legs. He pats one of your thighs and guides you to drape it over his shoulder, giving him more room to play, and he sucks a bruise onto your skin. He takes a deep breath, catching the heady scent of your sex, and he groans.

Steve spreads the lips of your pussy, getting his first taste of you when he places a soft kiss to your clit and his lips tingle. It’s a tease, but it has you sucking in a sharp breath and it’s got him reaching down to press the heel of his hand against his hard cock. He drops his head down a little lower, grinning at the little squeak you give when his nose bumps at your clit. It’s too dark to see, a shame. Teasingly, he presses his thumb against your hole and you squirm restlessly. He replaces his thumb with the flat of his tongue and he moans because you’re so sweet. Sweet and tangy.

Steve slides his tongue up, through your folds, moving right back to that bundle of nerves. It breaks your silence and you moan lowly, sound echoing in the darkness. It only spurs Steve on and he proceeds to devour you. Feasts upon your pussy, cherishing and savoring it almost the same way he used to do with those rare pieces of fruit Bucky would steal when he and Steve were poor, starving kids. His eyes roam up the wide expanse of your body, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your back arches off the car the closer you get to the edge.

Never let it be said that Steve Rogers isn’t a man of his word. You wanted to see what he’s got and he’ll fucking show you what he can do with his mouth. He eases your trembling thigh back down so you’re on steady ground, braces a forearm against your midsection, nurses at your clit, and slides two fingers inside your soaking pussy. He crooks them, searching until he presses against that ridged area.

“Steve!” You slap a hand down on the hood of your car. Your other hand is about to tear a chunk of his scalp out with the grip you’ve got on his hair. “Sweet fucking Lord.” His lips curl deviously. “Steve—oh, God bless—it’s so good. Steve, I—oh, Jesus fucking Christ!”

Steve starts rubbing furiously at that spot inside you, firm and steady pressure. He matches the pace with his tongue, circling and lapping at your clit. You scream when you reach your peak, entire body convulsing, and Steve quickly lowers his head. He moans like a whore when your come squirts into his waiting mouth. He can’t catch it all, though, and the rest soaks your thighs, the front of Steve’s shirt, and your panties. And, fuck, he’s already a mess, anyway. So, he shoves a hand down the front of his pants, takes himself in hand, and furiously strokes until he’s coming himself, coating his hand in thick, sticky white.

Steve makes sure to keep his hands on you, even as he stumbles to his feet. You’re still shaking all over, trying to catch your breath, furiously blinking the stars out of your eyes—or so his ego hopes. “I hope you know how to drive,” you whisper hoarsely. “Because you’re the only way we’re getting home now.”

“And that’s how we do it in the city,” Steve teases.

“Shut the fuck up and help me back in the car.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

You’re perched on the edge of Steve’s desk. He watches as you take small, careful sips of the moonshine. After a few minutes of rolling the product around on your tongue, you sigh dramatically and turn to look out the window at the looming Brooklyn Bridge with a pinched expression. “It still ain’t Kentucky water,” you grumble. He waits until you reluctantly add, “But it’ll do.”

A smirk plays at Steve’s lips. “Want me to remind you of how I celebrate a new partner?”

[galadrieljones]

that he may hold me by the hand: chapter 4

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  

Rating: Mature (Adult Themes, Violence, and Sexual Content)

Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.

Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph

Chapter 4: Because I love you. Why else?

Blessed are the Peacemakers, Micah had said. Arthur had been nervous for the parlay. He went with Dutch anyway, feeling he’d been remiss lately, absent, that he owed it to the gang.

The night that Mary Beth found him, he had fallen off his horse Amelia right outside the camp. Once they got him back to his tent, she sat with him. She stayed all night, until morning. Miss Grimshaw tried kicking her out around midnight, but Mary Beth told the old bitch to fuck off. She had never really used language like that before, not really. But he was shot, and as Charles had deduced, it looked like he had cauterized the wound himself. Because of this, it was closed. It wasn’t festering, but he had broken ribs, too. The bruises were spread all out over the left side of his chest like mean flowers, and he seemed deeply disoriented, and badly concussed. He had been tied up, strung up, probably tortured. You could see the ligature marks on his wrists and ankles. His face was black and blue. Some blood had matted his hair in the front, but she took care of that with a pan of warm water and a wash cloth. She fed him some water, first with a spoon, and when he came to a little bit, helped him sip from a cup. She had never seen him so broken, didn’t know he could be. In the years since she had joined up with Dutch’s boys, he always seemed the strongest of them, the most sturdy, as a tree.

On the fourth night, around ten or so, she was washing his clothes in the lake with a washboard by the light of the moon. She waited until the late evening to do this. She did not want to be bothered. That night, however, Abigail came, looking for her.

“Arthur is asking for you,” she said. “He’s up and moving.”

Mary Beth left his clothes in a bucket by the pier.

When she got there and pulled the tent flaps back, it was like Abigail had said. He was up. Or, he was sitting up. He had his feet on the ground. He had been writing something. There was a fountain pen on the bedside table, and he was sealing an envelope. The outside of the envelope was blank. When he saw her, he smiled, looking mighty weary, but alive.

She sat down on the bed beside him. She stretched her arms around him as far as they would go and placed her head on his shoulder. “You’re moving,” she said.

“That, I am,” he said. It seemed to take a great deal out of him. Every time he moved, his breathing was disturbed. “My damn rib cage,” he said. “You know, I have been shot in the leg, and it hurt less to move.”

Mary Beth laughed a little. But in truth she was close to crying. “How’s your head?”

“It hurts,” he said. “But I think mostly I’m just thirsty.”

“Oh.” She got up. There was a pitcher of water on the shaving table. She brought it to him.

“Thank you,” he said. He took a long drink straight from it. He seemed together, clear, like the concussion or whatever it was had mitigated. He set the pitcher down and leaned forward with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyeballs. “Mary Beth.”

“Yes?”

“I need to—ask a sort of favor from you.”

“Sure,” she said. “Anything.”

He picked up his face. He handed her the envelope. “I need you to deliver this to someone,” he said. “His name is Albert Mason. He’s a nature photographer, living in St. Denis. I’ve been sort of helping him out with a project. I was supposed to meet him yesterday, but obviously I never showed, and I ain't in no shape to ride yet. I don’t want him to think I stood him up on purpose. Can you do that for me?”

Mary Beth looked at the envelope, then at Arthur. “Of course,” she said. She placed the envelope in her pocket.

“I’d use the post,” said Arthur, “but lord knows how long that’ll take. Bring Marston with you, or Charles. I don’t want you riding all the way to St. Denis alone.”

“Okay, Arthur,” she said, happy to help. “I can do that.”

“He’s real nice,” said Arthur. “Mr. Mason. You’ll like him. He’s boarding at the high saloon in town. Just ask the bartender when you get there. He’ll direct you.”

“Sounds good.”

“Thank you, Mary Beth,” he said. He took a deep breath. His lungs were strong, but the pain from his ribs hindered him a great deal. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hair was getting long. His beard was growing in. The tent smelled medicinal. It was almost dizzying, an effect of the salves Charles had been applying to the wound in his shoulder. Arthur scratched at the scruff on his neck a little and lamented then that he was, once more, exhausted.

“Let me get you some dinner,” she said. “There’s stew leftover. I can heat it.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to,” she said. She placed her hand on his knee, in a reassuring manner.

She was in love with him. She knew he would never love her back at this point, but love is just love.

The next morning, Mary Beth set out with John, and the two of them rode to St. Denis. They took the roads. Neither of them had been to St. Denis before, so they were going off signage and instructions given to them by Hosea. Mostly they just ended up following the train tracks. At one point, Mary Beth’s horse spooked at the presence of a gator, but John shot it with his sidearm at alarming speed and it scurried away. The swamps, it turned out, were full of horrors.

When they got there, it was not difficult to find the saloon. The bartender was jovial and told them that Mr. Mason was upstairs in his room, that he had not yet come down for the day. He directed them to the last room on the right, on the second floor. “Room six,” he said.

John and Mary Beth went upstairs to room six. When they got to the red door, they were not entirely sure what to expect.

“What did Arthur say about this guy?” said John.

“Just that he’s a nature photographer,” said Mary Beth. “That he’s been helping him out with a project, and that he felt badly about missing their appointment. He said he was real nice.”

John sighed. “Okay.” He had his hair knotted back off his face. He took a deep breath, and he knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door opened, eagerly, and there was a man of modest size—about as big as John, but not as wiry. He had a beard and soft eyes. He wore a violet collared shirt made of what looked like expensive fabric. “Oh," he said. He looked surprised, as if he were expecting somebody different. “Hello. How can I help you?”

“Are you Mr. Mason?” said John.

“That’s me,” he said. He opened the door a little wider.

“Good,” said John. He had the envelope in his gloved hand. “Good. I’m John, this is Mary Beth. We're friends of Arthur Morgan."

Albert's face sort of fell. He all but froze. "Arthur?" he said. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," said John. "Yeah, it's fine. But he got himself into a pretty ugly scrape a few a days ago, and he felt bad about missing your appointment. He, uh, he asked us to bring you this."

He handed Albert the letter. Albert looked at it, then he looked back at John. "An ugly scrape? Is he hurt badly?"

"No," said John. "Or, well, he'll be fine. Just not really up to riding horses yet."

Albert had these sort of eyes you could get a little lost in. They had a sparkle to them, a quiet but certain kindness, even when desperately worried. “I see."

“Read his letter,” said Mary Beth, her hands folded in front of her. "He really is fine."

Albert studied her, then nodded once, perhaps unconvinced. He did not ask again. Instead, he seemed to catch his bearings. He folded up the letter and put it in his pocket. He had a sheen about him, a fine finish, like he knew how to operate in almost any social situation. “Would you two like to come in?” he said. “It's the least I can do for your trouble. I’ve just made a pot of tea.”

John and Mary Beth looked at each other. They both shrugged. “Sure,” said John. “What kind of tea?”

“Earl Grey, I believe.”

“Sounds fancy,” said Mary Beth, smiling.

Albert was impressed by her. It was easy to tell. He smiled with his sad eyes. “I assure you, it is anything but fancy. Mary Beth, was it?”

“That’s right.”

“And John,” said Albert.

John nodded.

“Well, come in then, Mary Beth and John,” he said. “Any friends of Arthur’s are friends of mine.”

They followed Albert through the door. Albert closed it, then ushered them to a little sunny living area by the window with a plush, blue sofa and a couple of parlor chairs. There was a balcony right outside, and the French doors were thrown open, letting in a lovely breeze and the bustling sounds of the city below. The room was mostly neat. “I apologize for the mess,” he said. "Make yourselves at home."

He went to the kitchenette to pour the tea. Mary Beth sat politely, admiring the dainty, moneyed quality of the room. There were little hanging Chinese lanterns in the window that made her feel romantic. John looked around. He was curious. There were a few clotheslines hanging in one of the dark corners across from the bed, pinned with a multitude of photographs. John examined them, holding his hands behind his back. He noticed the camera then, and the deconstructed tripod leaning by the door.

“So,” he said. “Mr. Mason.”

“Yes?”

“Arthur says you’re a…nature photographer?”

“That’s right,” said Albert. He brought the tray with the tea to the little table in the sitting area. Mary Beth straightened up, excited for the Earl Grey tea. “I hail from Philadelphia originally, but I recently set out with hopes of making a name for myself, in the art. Arthur has been—well mostly he’s been protecting me.”

“Like a bodyguard?” said Mary Beth.

Albert smiled at this. “A little,” he said. “More like, he knows his way around the wilderness, and, love it as I do, I do not. We met each other on happenstance out in West Elizabeth some months ago, struck up a partnership."

“There are a lot of pictures of Arthur up here,” said John. “They’re really something.”

“Well, he is quite photogenic,” said Albert. “Would you like sugar, or lemon in your tea?”

“Sure,” said John. He came and sat down in one of the chairs. He took off his hat and balanced it on his knee. Albert served the tea. They all sipped judiciously. Mary Beth enjoyed it a great deal—the ceremony, and the lovely tea cups and saucers with playful patterns of suns and ants and umbrellas and things on the porcelain. John wasn’t sure. He thought the tea just more or less tasted like flowers, but maybe that’s what it was supposed to taste like. He put the cup and saucer down on the table. “So you and Arthur are pretty good friends.”

“That, we are,” said Albert. He met John head-on with his eyes. He was a very astute and upright man, John thought. Straightforward, well-mannered and easy to be around. But then he looked away nervously, folded his hands in his lap. “I was very worried when he didn’t show last week. That’s not like him.”

“No, it’s not,” said John, watching him. “Arthur is a man of his word. I hope you can forgive him.”

"Oh, of course,” said Albert. He was toying with the hem of his shirt. He smiled without looking up.

Mary Beth sensed his unease. She set down her tea. She reached forward to place her hand on his hand. “He’s fine,” she urged, squeezing once. “He just needs time. Try not to worry too much.”

He was taken with her. She was very sweet. “Thank you, Mary Beth. I shall try.”

She picked her cup back up and drank more tea. “This is really good,” she said. "I've never had this sort of tea before."

“I’m glad you like it,” said Albert.

“It tastes like flowers,” said John, feeling stupid for having spoken, but now committed to the sentiment. “Real floral,” he continued, awkwardly. “Sort of like, lilac or something. Maybe jasmine? Jesus, I don’t know.”

But Albert just gazed at him, disarming. “That is a genius interpretation, and spot on. I shall remember that.”

John smiled, flattered, in spite of himself.

As they rode out of town, John waited until they were well beyond the confines of the city, and out in the pretty but dangerous quietude of the bayou. Then, he stopped them. He wanted to ride along the lake a little bit, see the water, and she was amiable to this. So they took a left turn and went further south, cutting over just east of Braithwaite Manor. When they got to the shore, they dismounted their horses and went to throw rocks into the water. The weather was warm. John wished he’d brought his fishing rod.

“Look at the birds,” said Mary Beth, enchanted. “A blue heron. It’s must be four feet tall.”

“Yeah,” said John, pensive. He picked up a long, flat rock, skipped it across the stillness of the lake. Part of why he'd wanted to take this detour was to talk about something. “Hey, Mary Beth," he said.

“Yeah?”

"You know Arthur pretty well, right?" he said. "Like, you guys is friends."

"Yeah, I think so," she said.

He sighed. “Has he ever said anything else to you? About Albert?"

“Not before yesterday," she said. "Why?"

“I don’t know,” said John. “I just—did you pick up on a…kind of vibe back there? Or something?” He skipped another rock.

“A vibe?”

“I just mean, Albert was pretty worried, don’t you think? Like, real worried."

“Yeah,” she said, her skirt rustling in the breeze. “He was worried. I saw it, too.”

“And all those pictures?” John went on. “I don’t know if you saw, but those ones of Arthur, they were taken in a dozen or more places. Like, they been traveling a lot together. And he's been gone so much, sometimes for a week, sometimes two. He comes back, his head’s in the clouds. Now, he has us hand-delivering this letter that’s too urgent for the post. And there was just...a vibe.”

Mary Beth was trying to follow. She had picked a little bushel of wildflowers. She was standing, staring at him. “What are you thinking?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know—do you think, maybe they’re like, more than friends?”

“You mean like lovers?” she said.

John looked at her. “Maybe. Yeah.”

Her face changed. At first, she was confused, but then it was like gears turning, coming together behind her eyes. “Golly,” she said, looking down at the wildflowers. “I guess. Maybe?”

“You're sure he hasn't said anything that might indicate...?"

“No,” she said, looking back at the water. “No. I mean, I don't think so.”

John sighed. He dug up a big old rock then with the toe of his boot, the size of a baseball. He bent over, picked it up. He studied its weight, its curves and its roughness. “Arthur is so goddam secretive," he said. “I know it’s none of my business.” He chucked the rock into the low tide and dusted his hands together. "I'm just curious. About his life."

Mary Beth was looking at the silver lake and how it bent off into the sky. The sunlight soaked right into it and made it sparkle. She let go of the wildflowers. They caught into the wind and went into the water.

“He was really nice,” said John. “Albert. Don’t you think? Either way, I get why Arthur would like spending time with him. It's different.”

The wildflowers kind of changed colors when they got all wet like that. Mary Beth wasn’t sad, not really. She was just thinking. “Yeah it is,” she said.

After they were gone, Albert left the tea cups and the tea pot on the table and went and sat down on the edge of his bed. He picked up Arthur’s letter, opened the envelope gingerly and unfolded the piece of paper within.  

Dearest Albert,

I hope you are well, and that you have been keeping safe and not getting yourself into too much trouble out in the wild without me. I am mighty sorry that I missed our appointment. Truth be told, I met with a bad character while out on the range, and he messed me up pretty bad. So bad, it’s had me flat on my back since Thursday. I am fine though. Please do not worry. I got a feeling that you will, because you are prone to do so, but I promise that I am healing, and the moment I am able to get on my horse, I will be there, and we will find you those orchids. I estimate another week, maybe two. I wish I could give you an exact date, but I don’t want to make another promise to you that I cannot keep.

I hope I am not overstepping when I say that I have missed you something fierce, Mr. Mason. I am very much looking forward to seeing you again. I pray that I have not missed my chance, and that you feel the same.

With love,

Arthur Morgan

Albert set the letter down on the bed. He placed his hand on top of it. He closed his eyes and imagined Arthur’s kiss beside the houseboat in the marsh. He had been nursing these thoughts, along with his nerves and confusion for days now, ever since Arthur did not show when he said he would. Sometimes, their kiss didn't seem real, but other times, it was so real, he lost his sense of almost everything else. The visit from John and Mary Beth had comforted him some, but seeing them there and knowing they would be returning to Arthur, wherever Arthur was, hurt, and leaving Albert alone to his hectic paranoia and this desperately romantic letter had mostly increased his anxieties. Even as he found himself enormously relieved, the more time he spent alone with his thoughts and reverie over his feelings, the more he could sense himself cracked and wide open, his insides exposed to the world. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

So he carefully folded the letter back into its envelope, and he tucked it into the drawer of his bedside table. He then got up and put on his shoes, and he got his camera, and he left and locked the door behind him, and he went downstairs and had a drink with the bartender who was nice and easy to talk to. He then took a walk around the city to take as many pictures of the urban dwellers in their natural habitat as he could. He knew that Arthur would appreciate them when he saw. He lingered longest in the park, where a scientist with a remote control boat was performing his magics for a small crowd at the little manmade lake there. A couple of interested bystanders asked Albert if he worked for the newspaper, and Albert just said no. No, no. I’m just your average voyeur with a camera, he said. Don’t mind me. They found him charming, as many people did, though he never understood why.

Over the next couple weeks, Albert kept himself very busy. He read the new Henry James, a short novel called The Turn of the Screw, which he found dreadful and boring. He smoked far too much, drank too much gin, and ate little but for what they served at the bar. He became a fixture in the parlor room down there. A tall man in a tall hat who knew card tricks swept in one night and taught him how to play poker. With a bit of beginner’s luck, Albert won a $25 pot on two pair: aces over tens. The tall man had an impressive mustache, said his name was Trelawny. “You look me up if you’re ever in Rhodes, dear boy,” he said. “I’ve got a dalliance with the fence there. He’ll host poker games in the evening to your heart’s content if you mention my name.” He then tipped his hat. He was on his way.

Albert was a sociable man, but whenever he returned to his room in the evenings, he felt overcome with loneliness and longing. He had experienced romance before with women, and that was fine, but it was not like this. This was a deep and existential pain that seemed to transcend the stupidity of youthful infatuation and all of its dramatic overtones. So he turned to developing his pictures with a kind of obsessiveness he had not channeled in some years. When he had been in university at Haverford, there were times he practically lived in the dark room. He loved his art, it was true. Among other things these days.

It was exactly thirteen days gone by when, one evening, finally, as Albert sat in his parlor chair, reading yet another terrible novel and smoking a cigarette by the light of his pretty Chinese lanterns, there came a knock on his door. He looked up.

When he opened the door, it was Arthur, looking tall and hale, though perhaps a little gaunt in the fact. His hair was touching his shoulders, combed neatly behind his ears. He held his hat with two hands in front of him and stood with his regularly gallant posture. He smiled and said, “Hey there.”

Albert stared, feeling a little like a buffoon, as he often did in these moments. He forgot everything. All of it. The pictures in the park. The magician. The bad novels. The loneliness and all the cigarettes. Every single frivolity he had experienced these past weeks alone.

“It is good to see you,” he said, smiling with weary content.

"Is it too late?" said Arthur. "I came as soon as I could."

"It is never too late," said Albert, stepping aside and holding the door. "Come in, dear friend."

[gizkasparadise]

do u have any ronald crushing on arya/jealous gendry outtakes 👀👀 as always, love the fury thank u for writing it ❤

so not QUITE what you asked for (sorry!!) but the Spirit is there! i had to cut myself off because legit just almost re-wrote all of ch. 22 from ronald’s POV lol

warnings for vague (but probably unsurprising) fury spoilers, a mention of ronnet hitting ronald/ronnet being a piece of shit, and gendry being victim of slander 8(

He hates Gendry Baratheon before he ever meets him. His father’s told them all enough: he’s some grifter from the gutters of King’s Landing, who had kissed enough Targaryen ass to land himself a Lordship. And that’s not even the worst of it all. Ronald had never been to court, but they had a cousin there named Rodolph who always wrote. And Rodolph said Gendry Baratheon’d gone and probably strong-armed Arya Stark into marrying him. They said he dragged her out of the Great Hall, ripped her right out of her betrothed’s arms. The whole court thought him unmannerly and crass and brutish–all the worst parts of Robert Baratheon, as well as his look. His uncle said the only reason the union between Lady Stark and Gendry Baratheon was allowed was because the King was a bastard upstart himself, and the lower born supported their own. Ronald had stared at the wall for that part, fists clenched.

Ronald’s father hadn’t taken any of the news from King’s Landing well. And he took the news about the wedding even less–”bred his bitch soon enough,” had been the exact words. Ronald hadn’t liked that, much. Gendry Baratheon sounded like a piece of gutter shit, but highborn Ladies shouldn’t be called dogs. And it sounded like Arya Stark had suffered enough indignity already.

After the rumors came the announcement that they’d have to host them. Ronald wasn’t privy to his family’s political affairs, but he noticed more ravens going in and out than usual during the month they prepared for House Baratheon’s arrival–east, south, and north. Whatever was happening, his father didn’t like it.

The week before their arrival had been even worse–the general mayhem of preparing for a host of fifty-something men, but also the way his father and uncle had been acting. They were both more short-tempered than usual, slamming doors and throwing books into fires. Ronald made the mistake of asking about one of their conversations and gotten a split lip for his trouble. He stopped asking after that.

The night before they were meant to arrive, father calls him into his solar.

“We can’t trust him, Ronald,” Ronnet says, fingers crossed over his mouth.

Ronald hadn’t been invited to sit, so he just stands behind the chairs across from his father’s desk. “Yes, father.”

Ronnet’s gaze flickers up. “How much do you know of our House’s relationship with the Baratheons?”

“They stole our land,” he says without having to think about it. Ronald doesn’t remember much about his grandfather, for whom he was named, but he does remember the hatred with which he spoke of Robert Baratheon. Nine-tenths of House Connington’s holdings had been dispersed, the majority split between House Mertyns, Rogers, and Wylde. All because Robert had a temper tantrum.

“That’s correct.” His father shifts in his seat. “Because you are my blood, and one day I may legitimize you should I never have a true son-”

Ronald swallows hard.

“-it’s your right to know what this visit means.” Ronnet drops his hands from in front of his mouth. “We have pledged support to Gendry’s claim because Jon demanded it. But our cousin is still in Essos, and did not realize the unfortunate history repeating in the Stormlands. I’ve since informed him.”

Ronald’s not sure what’s meant by all this, but he wisely stays silent. 

“I suspect Gendry Baratheon is coming to pillage our coffers and further disgrace our House by taking our status as landed knights. He is here for what could be your birthright, Ronald.” Father sneers. “Lowborns like him care little for honor or tradition. And he’s already proven himself bloodthirsty and soulless by allying with Daenerys Targaryen after she killed half of King’s Landing. I have no doubt he will find any reason to take the Roost from us and give it to one of his cutthroat bootlickers.” He clenches his jaw. “We must not trust this man, or any of his retinue, do you understand?”

“I understand.”

His father leans back and stares at him for a long while, as though trying to see how honest he’s being. Ronald straightens his posture. After a moment, he nods. “While they are here, you are to remain out of sight and mind. No doubt he’d find your mere presence an insult to him, and we cannot give him any excuse to punish our family.”

Ronald grinds his teeth. Of course high and mighty Gendry Baratheon would take any issue with a bastard who did as he was supposed to do and stayed a bastard. “I understand.”

Father looks at him once more, but then waves his hand dismissively. 

Ronald tries to smile. “Goodnight, father.”

“Yes, yes. Go now.”

–

The day they arrive, he’s told to stand in the back with the servants–it wouldn’t due to offend the Lord Mighty on High by ruining his view. He’s intent to stare at the dirt the entire time out of defiance, but when people in the courtyard start whispering, his curiosity gets the better of him. Ronald’s not tall, and so he has to shoulder a few people to the side in order to see the party arriving. The first person he sees can only be the Hound– the infamous lapdog of the Lannisters (yet another reason why Gendry Baratheon is scum). He’s a fearsome sight, half his features unrecognizable under the thick webbing of scar tissue. After him comes…a woman? in blue and gold-tinted armor, her face dour and Ronald has never heard of ladies in armor and so he is caught staring for a moment–the same way one might stare at a fire-eater or a juggler or something.

Then comes the man who can only be Gendry Baratheon. Immediately, Ronald thinks his reputation is well-earned. He can’t make out Lady Stark yet, but he can tell that Gendry dismounts his ugly-looking horse and moves forward without offering to help his pregnant wife down from hers. Ronald reluctantly admits that he’s big, his lumbering frame a build found on the villains in songs. The menacing appearance is enhanced by his shortly cropped hair–the sort of style worn by criminals or hard laborers. Gendry frowns when he addresses his father, not even attempting a genial greeting as befitting a Lord. Father was right when he said Baratheon was there to look down at them.

A slight figure steps forward, then, and Ronald’s eyes go wide. 

His first thought is that he’s never seen a woman like her. She wears a man’s clothes, hair in an unraveling braid over her shoulder and still slightly wet from the hard rainfall an hour or so ago. When she walks, it’s with an easy grace that reminds him of cats, but there’s something dangerous about her, too. Ronald looks at her waist and sees at least two weapons–a dagger and a sword of some kind. Her grey eyes are striking even from where he stands.

He hears his father greet her as Lady Arya and his mouth goes dry. It’s not fair that she’s in this situation. That she’s to be a mother to this terrible man’s child, instead of with her real betrothed in Dorne. 

The usurper lord walks into the gates of his home (without offering his pregnant wife an arm of escort!) and Ronald hates him that much more.

[staliasjeronica]

Riverdale 3.09 Thoughts *Spoilers*

- Choni ❤️❤️❤️ But “stealing from.the rich to give to, well, us” what? Cheryl… YOU’RE RICH. Give some of the money to the Serpents They need it a bit more than you do baby. BUT BITCH THEIR FIRST I LOVE YOU I’M—

- Five weeks of the quarantine… that would have made an INCREDIBLE story line? Seriously? It would have been amazing to see Sweet Pea being temporary king while Jarghead and FP were gone. But no… let’s just skip the good part? What the fuck kinda writing skips.a great plot?

- “All physical contact must be kept to a minimum?” um… literally WHY? There’s literally NO reason for that to be a rule? Also fuck off Moose no ones likes a tattle tale and we all know that you’re slumming it up with Kevin after school so leave my babies alone. Oh. it’s for the seizures? Really? Dude SEIZURES ARE NOT FUCKING CONTAGIOUS YOU STUPID FUCKERS OH MY GOD. Stop trying to keep then gays from being cute!!!!!!!

- The RROTC made the rules? Dude they don’t run the school lmao that’s NOT HOW THINGS WORK

- JOSIE SINGING!!! MY BABY VERONICA!!! UGH FUCK ME UPPPP

- VEGGIE. VERONICA IS LOOKING AT JOSIE’S INCREDIBLE SINGING WHILE REGGIE IS AWING AT VERONICA I’M—

-  Ew and then my mood is ruined by bughead waking up 😷😷😷

- Betty put all of those girl’s… in HER house? THE COOPERS CAN BARELY TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES LET ALONE THOSE GIRLS. Also don’t they fucking have families? And yes, Betty, that scream definitely would wake up your mom because they have those motherly instincts and they’d think their child was hurt, so ofc she’s going to wake up.

- They want to play… G&G… are you kidding me? I kinda get that it makes them feel better because that’s how they had it in SOQM but still WHY? JUST PLAY CLASSICAL MUSIC OR SOMETHING AND TAKE A BATH.

- Of course Jughead goes from his horrible leadership to “I left you too long” stfu right now your priority is the Serpents and who’s dealing the drugs (although I know who and uhhhh leave them alone he has to stay alive somehow)

 - They don’t even have an elected Sheriff yet? WHY? SHERIFF KELLER DIDN’T DIE DID HE? THEN FUCKING REINSTATE HIM??? IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD YOU STUPID FUCKS

 - “Maybe that means that Archie could come back home” wE KNOW YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM BETTY. Barchie!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

- Reggie ❤️❤️❤️ WOAH WHAT NO LEAVE HIM ALONE? HE ALREADY GETS ABUSED BY HIS FATHER! But aw Ronnie gets to take care of him I’m—

- Hiram really is trying to hustle his daughter wow so uhhh he does know that his daughter is the incredible Veronica Lodge, right? She’ll find a way lol we all know the queen can do everything

- “Has anyone ever told you you’re a badass?” Wow Reggie is so fucking into her I’m just 😭😭

- If Vegas gets hurt RAS will LITERALLY DIE.  I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS AND I’M NOT READY FOR THIS. Also there’s no way Vegas wouldn’t have seen or heard the bear behind him but sure whatever. ARCHIE JUST BC SHE’S ZONING OUT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN’T HEAR HER. JUST DO WHAT SHE SAYS JESUS. Also how convenient that it suddenly doesn’t work.

- “They imprinted on me” Betty NEVER say that again that was gross as fuck. “But as their queen, they are your responsibility, not mine” bitch Betty can’t be a queen no matter how hard she tries, and she (nor Jughead) know how to take care of anyone but themselves so… Alice unless you want Betty to end up killing them, this is where you, as the mom, undermine her and take them to the farm. Of course I don’t trust the farm but it’s much safer than the Cooper house hold because they have the resources to spare, the Cooper’s don’t.

- Hey here’s an idea… since you can’t get to Hiram using the nuns because they took a vow of silence (cowards) then maybe… just maybe… OUT IT AS A CONVERSION THERAPY HELL SITE AND USE THAT INSTEAD? But we know Betty doesn’t want to save the gays so 😷😷

- I love Josie’s singing but why is she singing in an empty lounge? REST HER VOCALS.

- I used to love Hiram’s evil-ness but now he just shows up all the time and it’s getting annoying. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD END THIS FUCKING PLOT SO VERONICA CAN FOR ONCE GET HER OWN STORY THAT BETTY DOESN’T TAKE, THAT DOESN’T REVOLVE AROUND HER FATHER OR A GUY. SERIOUSLY. They have so much potential with literally any other character but still decide to force Bughead and their separate characters down our throats. Like at this point honestly just kill them both off Jesus Christ

- Jughead… this is a gang… they’ve always sold drugs? At least, weed, but still? You have to take into consideration that you were gone, and they were placed under quarantine, and they needed money. You can’t blame any of them for dealing with Hiram you whiny piss baby. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

- God it bothers me that Jarghead is such a lowsy king. When do we get Sweet Pea overthrowing him? pLEASE WE NEED IT SO TONI CAN LEAD BESIDE HIM. Maybe Swangs (even though I know what happens) and Choni can co-lead the Serpents

- Cheryl speaking facts! AND MY BOY FANGS. Jughead had NOTHING to say to Fangs and FP had to step up and cover for Jughead, because he was right. What else are they supposed to do? Gangs are supposed to do bad shit? Jughead has done ultimate horrible shit and suddenly he’s going to act like a gang is supposed to be clean? Jughead do your research that is not what gangs do. Also, if FP is going to be at every fucking Serpent meeting maybe he should, you know, take his spot back. He’s a MUCH better leader than Jughead, even though I’d prefer it be one of the founding members like TONI FUCKING TOPAZ or something.

- I love how no one really does the “in unity there is strength” thing. Like, they know they’re being lead to slaughter basically and FP is just letting it happen. Also, they’re running the gang into the ground. There is no more unity because JUGHEAD’S STUPID POWER-HUNGRY ASS ISN’T DOING SHIT TO HELP THE GANG. Also also Betty looks so out of place and awkward there. Can’t wait for Archie to come back and for her to realize that he almost died and then realize she can’t live without him and that she loves him and finally bughead can split for good and barchie can rise

- If Veronica paid why the FLYING FUCK did they go after Josie? FucK OFF HIRAM

- Polly you had to say his name. LEAVE MY BOY ALONE.

- FANGS CRYING STOP STOP STOP MY BABY BOY NO NO NO

- “We could’ve helped you” JUGHEAD YOU LITERALLY JUST BANNED CRIME. THE SERPENTS HAVE NO MONEY WHAT ELSE WHAT HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DO? Also they can’t get mad at him bc this was before Jughead got back and did the stupid crime law like a hypocrite

- DUDE FANGS DID THIS BEFORE THE FUCKING RULE YOU STUPID FUCKERS? LIKE??? DO YOU HAVE NO BRAIN CELLS?

- Oh Jughead has one brain cell left? I know he ends up being cancelled but he’s not… yet.

- CHONI BREAKING IN AND STEALING SHIT YES BITCH

- Why is Archie hallucinating playing G&G? Like doesn’t this mean he’s playing by himself? The fuck?

- Dead ass Cassidy telling Archie it sounds like his fault that all that happened, you can tell that this is Archie’s mind because he always blames himself for things that have nothing to do with him. Because we know that it’s definitely NOT his fault. None of it is.

- Cheryl just HAD to kiss the picture

- JERONICA. JERONICA. JERONICA. JERONICA. JERONICA. JERONICA. JERONICA. MY FANFIC IS COMING TO LIFE. JUGHEAD AND THE SERPENTS PROTECTING VERONICA YASSSSSSSSS

- I’m mad that they didn’t have Joaquin not actually die. Like, Sweet Pea and Fangs were close to him? They could have faked his death like what the fuck

- YES WE LOVE AND STAN LAWYER MCCOY

- How did Jughead know that Toni was involved? Cheryl was the only one who left a stupid calling card.

- THE TEARS WELLING IN TONI’S EYES STOP STOP STOP

- But he can’t fucking kick her out she’s literally a legacy. This crusty white boy needs to sit the fuck down

- Okay one, Cheryl why would you bring Fangs back into it? THE FUCK. Also, Jughead you can’t be disappointed in Fangs for telling SP even though you said not to tell anyone—best friend’s never count. 

- SWEET PEA STANDING UP. FANGS CRYING. “Some leader you are” YES FANGS WHAT A KING. SWEET PEA BBY OH MY GOD

- “And the rest of us don’t get to go back to Thistlehouse” says the disgusting whiny piss baby who gets to sleep in his girlfriend’s house, in her comfortable bed while his gang lays in cots or some shit in tents. Get off your mighty high horse, Jughead. God, now they’re switching roles… Betty is kinda becoming SLIGHTLY tolerable and now Jughead is being so fucking annoying. Go back to how it was please.

- JERONICA. AND VEGGIE. EXCELLENCE.

- So Archie standing over Hiram and shit was all a fucking dream? Really? COME ON. Lol Hiram has a point though because everyone goes in and tells him their fucking plans. OMG THE CALLBACK TO THE FIRST EPISODE WAS GREAT. CALL BACK TO BARCHIE BEING ENDGAME YESSSS.

- So if Veronica ended up smashing the egg… then fucking give Fangs, Toni, and Cheryl their spots in the Serpents back since it was all for nothing anyways.

- I’m glad Cheryl and Nana Rose are housing some fo the girls but WHAT ABOUT THE SERPENTS YOU GUYS HAVE A BIG FUCKING HOUSE. Why didn’t she house some of them there? I mean it’s ooc for Toni not to be thinking of her fellow Serpents why wouldn’t she be like “hey babe you have a lot of room here what if we help house some of the Serpents” but uhhh apparently not.

- Hey FP shut the fuck up with this “she’s still a Lodge” shit because you all know she doesn’t associate herself with her parents anymore. Remember “you don’t have a daughter” or…?

- Jughead brought up when FP worked for Hiram. Hell yeah! But him saying he wants Jughead to be a better king than him? BITCH YOUR SON DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO RUN A GANG. HE SUCKS. HE’S STUPID AND RUINING THE GANG HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT? God never give your throne to blood family.

- Yeah, FP, you’re not made for the sidelines you’re made to RULE you stupid fuck. Maybe you should get back with Alice she makes you more stable and less stupid

- REGGIE’S LIKE “NOT THIS TIME BITCH”

- SWEET PEA WITH A BAT FUCK YEAH

- So… you threaten the gargoyle bitch but you don’t unmask him to see who he is? Are you fucking stupid?

- Wtf… he has to beat himself with a bat on his own bed? I am confusion… WHAT THE FLYING FUCK? THE BLACK HOOD AND HIRAM AND THE GARGOYLE KING HAVE DONE SHIT NOT YOU YOU BIG BAFOON. NO DON’T DESTROY YOU’RE GOOD HEARTED INNOCENCE. YOU’RE THE ONLY BRAVE ONE OF THE CORE FOUR. ARCHIE NO.

- If they make Archie unlikable the only good core four person will be Veronica.

- VERONICA SINGING ❤️❤️❤️ Oh fuck I know this song but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it!!!

- VEGGIE. SHE’S SO FUCKING HAPPY TO SEE HIM I’M— HE’S SO ENAMORED WITH HER. VEGGIE KISS. Why can they make their chemistry shown on screen but Bughead can’t? Like both couples are even dating irl, too…

- JUGHEAD YOU PIECE OF SHIT. He only uses Sweet Pea or Fangs when he has something he doesn’t want to do usually because it’s too dangerous for him (whiny piss baby). DON’T MAKE MY BABY BOY GO UNDERCOVER HE’LL FUCKING GET HURT.

- I’ve literally never hated Jughead more nothing he can do can make up for what he’s done in this episode bye

- What the actual fuck. This is so fucking stupid.

- Archie isn’t dead. If Archie dies before bitch ass Betty or Jiggaloo Jones I will literally come after RAS. 

[takaraphoenix]

Review: 03x13 Beati Bellicosi

So @kimmycup and I finished the episode!

Let’s start with the wolves and vampires - and my favorite line of this episode:

Wolves don’t just attack without a cause. Not in New York.

Bitch, that is the opposite of the New York pack. They literally do that. They do that. Bat Velasquez is one of the living breathing proofs for that because he got attacked and turned without a cause and consent by members of the New York pack. They went and attacked Simon while he was peacefully living on their territory, without any cause just because they were bothered by his presence. Maia tried to fucking murder Jace the first time she met him just because he didn’t have time to help her in that instance and, without actual hard proof, she assumed he murdered Gretel so let’s attack him without legitimate cause. Maia, again, also tried to straight-up murder Clary so she wouldn’t be able to activate the Soul Sword in season 2. Attacking without a cause is the New York pack’s MO, literally.

How do multiple praetors fail to catch one newbie vampire? She is not very trained, she is all alone, how did those trained praetors, not even just normal wolves, not manage to capture that bitch yet? How is that a thing? What even are praetors because they sure as shit seem rather useless. I thought they were a specially trained force. But they, in a group, can’t even take down one vampire, huh.

And then Griffin thinks it’s legitimate to slaughter the pack... because the praetors accused them of hiding Heidi, which honestly while wrong in that moment was right in the next when Heidi was welcomed back in and was also right in the scene before Jordan arrived when Heidi was in the Hotel and talking to Griffin already. Not to mention the whole fact that Raphael turned her without telling anyone and kept her hidden in the basement so like... not believing the New York clan about anything involving Heidi is really not much of a “You don’t trust us because we are vampires!” issue, you do not get to play the racist card there because you, your clan, literally did all of that not even a month ago. And it by no means justifies slaughtering nearly the entire damn pack.

I mean, yes, it was in fact not “good authority” that brought Jordan to the hotel. Like, boy needs to fact check shit, but it still stands that Heidi had been there prior to it and after and that the New York clan hiding Heidi in the basement is literally how this whole shit-show started so Griffin’s gotta get off his high horse.

Now let’s talk about family.

One aspect of the addiction plotline that I hated was how Alec so irrationally got angry with Magnus for not immediately telling him Isabelle was addicted... but no one even thought about telling Jace, who supposedly is also her brother, until the whole thing was already over. And we’re going to do this again, huh? We’re going to do this Alec and Izzy style again and not tell Jace until it’s over.

Same for the whole Downworlders getting tortured part - I mean, I still stand by how Izzy’s reaction to this is fucking ridiculous because this is not news. Like, yes Downworlders getting tortured is bad and shouldn’t happen, but they already know this happens. This isn’t news? So why you acting all high and mighty and morally superior? And like “this isn’t how [Maryse] raised us” - bitch, it is. It is exactly how she raised you because it is how y’all have been doing business from the get-go. You, dearest Alec, literally had an outfall with Izzy over Meliorn being taken in to be tortured in season 1. That was kind of a big deal, so don’t act like this was never the case.

Look, you can have character development and growth. You can have Alec and Isabelle growing as characters and now being against torture. But you don’t get to sell them as completely oblivious idiots who didn’t know this has been going on the whole time, that’s bullshit.

Now, the Lightwood family is not the only one I take issue with.

How do we not get any Luke and Clary bonding at all? This show so desperately tries to sell Luke as Clary’s father figure, but let’s take a step back from how much we want that and look at the actual canon facts. Luke didn’t take Clary in after her mom died; she lived with strangers at the Institute. Luke wasn’t there to mourn Jocelyn with Clary, he went on a run to mourn alone. We never got any shared mourning between Clary and Jocelyn. And now? Now that she is back from the dead? He doesn’t even spend one single day just... being with his daughter? To, I don’t know, be there for her, catch up with each other? Instead he goes and investigates with... Maryse. This could have been a good bonding moment for Luke and Clary. They could have investigated the Morning Star sword together, as father and daughter.

But the show oh-so desperately had to sell its ships. So let’s talk about ships.

It’s not even been two months since Jocelyn died. Not even two months. The woman Luke has loved for two decades. Dead for approximately like six weeks. But... he’s kissing Maryse, a woman he supposedly had bad blood and history with through the Circle and the treatment after the Circle ended. But sure, the exactly three (3) interactions they had since Maryse was deruned totally qualify for Luke moving on from the woman he loved for two decades to... her, of all people. I’m not saying you gotta be a mourning widower for the rest of your life, but two months are a pathetic mourning period if you loved someone for this long and it is majorly cringeworthy that they are forcing romance to happen there, instead of spending Luke’s screentime on the above mentioned potential bonding with his daughter. This is a ridiculous decision, writing-wise.

Maia and Simon acting like they had some epic, all rules defying romance is ridiculous. They were dating for literally three weeks. Literally three weeks. That’s... most people wouldn’t even define that as a relationship. Look. I liked them, I actually did like Maia and Simon together so this isn’t meant as “I hate this ship, it ain’t epic!!!”, but as “You really can not define a two weeks relationship as epic”. Because, quite frankly, you didn’t manage to defy the stereotype that a wolf and a vampire can’t date - because in the end, the wolf chose her pack over her vampire boyfriend so like... What you said made no sense, is my point. And it’s also so insanely forced. I mean, this breakup has been coming for the past two episodes now and them now going “Maia needs to put the pack first so she breaks up with Simon so we can finally make S*zzy happen1!!” is... once again, a ridiculous decision.

I genuinely don’t even wanna talk about Jace and Clary. It’s been less than two weeks that they’re together. Jace has expressed how he wants to take it slow. But sure. Let’s have sex right now, once again without anything emotional tying them together. They will never bother with writing this as an actual relationship, will they? Like? There is no interest in their emotional state of mind, no concern “So, Jace, now that I just returned, how are you doing post possession?”, nope it’s immediately “Can we fuck now?” and they do. How is beyond me though. Like, how can Clary legit be horny enough that “So I’m emotionally linked to my brother. Let’s fuck and give him a good orgasm then, huh” isn’t enough to put her off?? This is just... insanity.

Other random observations:

I feel like what best summarizes this season, if not the entire show, is the fact that Simon literally just met a Biblical figure who is very much alive, and it is just legitimately used as a throwaway line. Like. That’s the pacing and cramming of this series. We have so much going on that we can’t even take five minutes to have this Jewish character sit down and digest that he met the Cain and to like deal with that and his faith. No, it’s just one throwaway line that that’s a thing that happened and then we gotta move on.

So Silent Brothers illustrate novels now, huh. That’s a thing Silent Brothers do now, yeah. I mean, if this were... like... an actual copy of a Bible or something. But Paradise Lost is just... it’s a story. Sure, sure, sure, we treat it as A Real Thing, apparently, but it’s still just a book. And the Silent Brothers just... illustrate those now. With enough accuracy that you can make out the super rare rune that binds Lucy and Mike, yeah? That’s a thing. Of course. Because they were “special seer Silent Brothers”, so we’re... implying they actually witnessed this fight between Lucy and Mike and got a good enough look at their bare shoulders to illustrate the rune, yeah? That’s what we’re going with, huh?

Also, hot damn. They are doubling down hard on the “metaphor” - I don’t think you can, in good faith, call it a metaphor anymore because those always do need a little translating. They literally called Jonathan Morgenstern and made him the demon-blooded one. While Clary is the super pure mega special angelic angel girl. And now they share the runes of Lucifer, aka the actual Morgenstern/Morning Star, and Michael, the super mega special angel. That ain’t even a metaphor anymore.

Do Shadowhunter doctors even exist? When Jace nearly died, well one of those times anyway, he got healed by Clary, aka the most untrained Shadowhunter at the time. When Izzy was badly injured and wanted to go to the Iron Sisters, she did not go to any actual doctor in the Institute, she got her special vamp-drugs directly from the head of the Instistute and did not ask any doctors for second opinion either. Clary, in her infinitey stupidity, decides to just go with it and try to derune that magic special rune that the mother of all demons put on her, and it’s not done by a specialist with training, it’s just done by Jace. Do they have anyone with special medical training anywhere in that Institute, is what I’m asking.

I don’t know. I’m just so tired at this point.

TL;DR:

This show is 100% driven by ships. Characters make decisions only based on what ship the show really needs to sell, be that Luke suddenly asking Maryse for help instead of bonding with his daughter, or Clary and Jace just randomly having sex despite all the trauma Jace has been through since the last time he said he isn’t ready yet and wants to take things slow, or how Maia breaks up with Simon so the show can make S*zzy happen. It’s insane. Please stop being horny, show-writers, I beg you

Wolves are dumb. There is no other way to phrase that

Vampires though? Also not the brightest. How do you let Heidi manipulate you like that, Griffin? Raphael needs to come back

Stop pretending like the Lightwood sibling bond is a special thing applied to Alec-Isabelle-Jace if you keep excluding Jace

Silent Brothers like illustrating novels in their free time, who’d have thought

If they try to hit us over the head any harder with the Jonathan MORGENSTERN = Lucifer and Clary = oh so pure good angel metaphor, I’ma get a concussion from it

[lucifer-lacroix]

Strawberry Chapter 1 (Rewrite)

Arthur X OC RDR 2 Fanfiction, Romance, Action, Mystery. 

"I decided to take a ride out of blackwater on my own for a while. Hosea has been riding me all week about getting into trouble at the saloon again, guess I should not have had that third bottle of whiskey. I thought it best to disappear till things cool down. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells around them since they are trying to cook up some big plan and they compared me to a bull in an antique shop. I heard up Mount Shann there is a bald eagle or two nesting near the top. I have never seen one before, so maybe I might get lucky and shoot one out of the air or... at least get a sketch of it and some feathers. Who knows. Strawberry is a beautiful town, and I am enjoying the scenery up here. The stable is well built with wooden carvings and statues around the property. Someone is either pretty wealthy or handy with small tools."

The blonde man known as Arthur Morgan scribbled into his leather back journal a picture of the Gate to Strawberry, he sat on the back of a Grey and White Arabian horse which grazed on the pile of hay inside a trove. The pair were sheltered from the rain at a nearby stable down the road from the small town of Strawberry.  Arthur was dressed in a white bison leather coat as well as having a wolf pelt draped over his shoulders. It was a wet afternoon, and the sun shone high in the sky breaking apart the rain clouds which had just finished their storming, though the distance dark thunder clouds were still looming in the distance. His worn and torn green hat tipped low over his eyes casting a large shadow over his face as people walked by paying him little mind as they went about closing up the stable for the evening. After the rain calmed to a spit, he folded up his journal and tucked it away into his satchel, He shook out his fur cowl of any last remaining droplets of water and dusted off his sleeves. He reared the horse back away from her food, and she honked disapprovingly having been interrupted during her snack. "Hey, now Princess lets get moving there will more once we arrive at the hotel." He said patting her neck as she pranced in the spot shaking her wet mane. He leaned back and eased her to turn around slowly. He clicked his tongue on his teeth and gave her a squeeze with his thighs, and she pushed forward heading back for the road and up the hill. The short walk made harder for the steed from the extra weight of a buck carcass hanging off her rear. Behind them, a mule was following close on their tail led by a single rope tied onto Princess's saddle. He too was carrying a buck much larger than the other, and he was trotting along behind happily honking once Arthur looked back to him with a smile. "Good boy." He said and tugged the rope so the Mule would follow closer to him on his left. As they crested the hill, they entered a bustling town with muddy streets. Carts and horses had gotten stuck in the mud from the sudden burst of rain which had flooded the dirt streets, there were crowds gathered trying to pull people out of the mud, and the main thoroughfare was a dangerous zone for travellers. Arthur dodged his two mammals around the long way and through the shallow mud avoiding the thick areas and brought them to the closest hitch he could find. The cowboy dismounted and hitched them up positioning the Arabian along with his mule and secured them together on the post.  As he approached the butcher counter no one was attending it as a group of people were gathered in the street around some commotion currently blocked from his view by a carriage stuck in the muck. He walked towards the crowd curiously and heard two women fighting, their screams of anger shrill and loud echoing around the group that had gathered. As he was but a few steps away, the people cheered loudly as a loud smash of wood was heard, and he dodged a flying piece of wood which smacked someone else in the face — quickly turning back to see where the projectile had come from. There were two women in a pit of mud covered head to toe wrestling each other, pulling hair and screaming like banshees. "You lying bitch! That was my momma's ring, and I'll be damned if I will see it on your whore of a finger!"  The first girl said screaming, her dark brown hair a muddy mess tangled and knotted as the woman she was fighting was currently bending her over using her hair as leverage over her. Her clothing was slick with pale brown mud revealing much of her figure to the crowd, the dress was torn and shredded at the sleeves, and she was currently at the others mercy. "I bought it with my own money, take it up with the jeweller! I paid for it!"  The red-headed woman holding her down said with a mighty voice and a scowl on her face currently in control of the fight. She too was slick with the pale brown mud and her red expensive corseted dress was splattered with muck, she was struggling in the dirt under the constraints of the skirt and heels, but for the moment she had things under control. There was a broken bucket beside them on the ground, and the redhead had splintered wood in her hair and blood was dripping out her nose. "What happened?" Arthur asked witnessing the fight now taking in the scene. He felt his chest tighten as the crowd just stood there and watched as these two rather lovely ladies fought like animals to their amusement.   "That little bitch there just smashed that whore in the face with a bucket Hooheey! Fight! Fight!" A balding drunk chanted along with other encouraging the fight. "Disgusting, you just sit there and watch!?" Authur shouted and marched into the centre of the crowd towards the two brawling women. He entered the mud pit which slowed his pace and without hesitation joined the fight. As the red-head slipped in her heels, the brunette swung her foot up in an attempt to kick her, but Arthur slapped it down and grabbed the redhead's hand and pried it free from the brunette's hair. "That's enough!" He shouted and forced them apart. The redhead barely fought against him as he pried her hand off of the girl. He threw her hand away, and she pulled it to her chest panting heavily but still looking at the strange, handsome man who decided the fight needed to stop. The Brunette, however, took this moment to attempt to tackle through Arthur but he stopped her easily and picked her up. She kicking and screaming started splashing mud over Arthur trying to get past him to attack the redhead. He carried her a few steps away and set her down on her feet. "Let me go she's nuttin but a who-Augh!" In the midst of her tantrum, Arthur pushed her back, and she slipped in the mud and fell onto her butt in a large paddy of thick mud. "Shut up and go home." He barked loudly. It was clear she was the one who started the fight as the redhead merely stood there trying to regain her breath and was suffering from being smashed with a bucket. "The fact you have anything to say about me Henrietta is a laugh! You've slept with half the town for free!" The redhead shouted after she brushed her hair back off her face and noticed the blood on her fingers. She tried to move but ended up stuck in the mud unable to escape her heels. Arthur saw how she was trapped and left the brunette to flounder in the muck to assist the woman in red by giving her his hand. She took his hand and with his grip firm and solid arm she was able to pull herself free from the thick mud. "Are you alright mam?" He asked and noticed her red matching coat to her dress was stuck in the mud too. He pulled it out and shook it off and handed it to her which she took and collected under her arm. She was still trying to accept the fact they got drenched in mud, and her head was spinning, so the woman barely glanced at him. Arthur, however, studied her for a moment, her face half smeared with mud, and he could scarcely see the freckles which crested her shallow nose. Her eyes, however, were a stunning green shade inside perfectly shaped almond eyes which could not be masked by the dirt. For a brief moment, she glanced back and mouthed a thank you then held her face where she got hit with the bucket. "Thank you. I should be alright." She said and touched her nose and winced. Before Arthur was able to say anything mentioning her possibly broken nose face, Henrietta interrupted.   "I'll kill you!" Henrietta screamed and finally scrambled up off the ground. Once Henriette got onto her feet she grabbed a piece of splintered wood and headed back for the woman in red. She stopped in her tracks as all the attention turned when the click of a gun being cocked sounded. Arthur had a surprised look on his face as he watched the redhead lightning quick drew his silver-plated volcanic pistol from his belt and pointed it at the brunette.  He looked down to his belt and back to her somewhat intrigued on how she was able to stealthily and speedily draw his gun. The crowd stood still as everyone froze waiting for the snap of a bullet to fire. Only silence followed. A second click of the hammer and a second gun was involved. This time eyes turned towards the carriage where the fight took place. "Excuse me. I think it's time you got back into the carriage, Isabella." A third woman stated in a soft, elegant voice with a British accent. She was wearing a large white hat with plums of coloured feathers and flowers with blonde curly hair tumbling out from under it. Her royal blue and the well-tailored corseted dress fit her curves snugly, and something about her struck Arthur as familiar as if he had seen her before. She was enchanting to witness, but her angelic look was contrasted by long barreled high-velocity rifle firm in her grip. She was standing in the door of the carriage with her boot stepped up on the frame so she could rest the barrel of the gun on her thigh and had pointed it at Henrietta.   Arthur started to feel the sweat dripping down his neck at the situation he found himself in since his pistol was no longer in his hands. "May I suggest," Arthur spoke and put his hand on the Redheads and lowered her gun in a gentle motion. "You give her the ring?" He asked the woman who glared at him in response.   "If she can pay for it." The blonde woman from the carriage said. "I can't pay for it... but it's mine." Henrietta had tears in her eyes, she was full spirited and ready to fight, but the two guns pointed at her left her scared and nervous. "Is it worth dying over?" Arthur asked her kindly. "...Yes," Henrietta replied as her eyes swelled up. Whatever the ring meant to her. It was surely something important since her face was red with rage. "Ugh! Fine!" The redhead let the pistol fall, and she let out a long frustrated growl and shoved the pistol into Arthur's hands. He eased her rash actions and took the weapon and held it in hand more confident in the situation now with his gun returned to him.  The redhead pulled off her gloves and removed a small gold ring from her finger that has a sapphire embedded into it. "Take it, but you need to cover the costs to clean my clothes, the gentleman's too." She said and pulled herself through the mud, the train of her dress dragging through the mud but she walked with a hauty march, she approached the miserable girl and handed the ring to her. As Henrietta gripped the wood in her hand, the splintered wood weapon still tight in her grip she wanted to swing, but the blonde still had her at gunpoint. Henrietta dropped the chunk of wood and took the ring back, shaking her head silently in agreement. "Now that's the end of that! Everyone can go right fuck off then eh!" The redhead yelled at the crowd who groaned seeing such an anticlimax end to the argument. They started to move on as the blonde released Henrietta from gunpoint. "I will pick up your clothes tomorrow at noon for cleaning. I can't afford the cleaners, but I can do it myself." Henrietta said and slipped the ring on her finger and held it to her chest. "I am fine no need to worry about my clothes," Arthur said and attempted to leave. "Nonsense. A Gentlemen like yourself does not get to leave so suddenly. You stepped in the middle of a fight that is not your own to protect ladies from their own squabble.  We have to thank you." The blonde spoke up and shouldered her weapon. "I merely did not want to see bloodshed today. I'm glad I could assist good day mam." He said and tipped his hat to them and walked off anyway. The ladies started discussing things amongst themselves, and Arthur exited the mud pit and headed back to the butchers counter where the man who was watching the event had returned too.  

A white bison leather jacket, handcrafted after hunting a rare creature in the snowy mountains was now splattered with mud and fertiliser as Arthur slugged through the mud which flooded the street of Strawberry. The weather in the distance started to darken as the thunder clouds began to grow above. What was a freak downpour was about to become a storm and Arthur looked up assessing what his next steps should be? He looked to his horse and mule and started to untie the carcasses from their backs while his thoughts were stirring. Hiking up a mountain trail with two mammals was hard enough, but Princess was an extraordinarily skittish girl, and as Arthur lifted the buck off the Arabian's back she danced and swayed in spot huffing heavily and shaking her mane. Princess would not fare well in a thunderstorm even with all of Arthur's attention, and he could not ignore his mule. After Arthur handed off to the first buck to the butcher, he returned to the happy boy who neighed with joy when Arthur came near and stroked his neck. "Who's a good boy." He soothed him as he began to nibble at his bandana tugging it gently. No one could ignore the...

"He's cute, what's his name?" A feminine voice spoke up from behind him. It was the blonde Englishwoman from the carriage. She must have followed him across the road since her perfectly clean black boots now had muck on them yet she was immaculate from any mess on her blue dress. "I call him the Duke," Arthur said giving him a few heavy pats. "I'm in love with how sweet he is on you." She said and folded her hands over her heart watching the Mule fawn over his loving owner. "He's a handful alright, always wanting attention but he is a good boy," Arthur added when the Duke snatched the bandana from his neck and ripped two buttons off his shirt at the same time — trying to eat it while he was distracted. "Hey! No no no give it back." Arthur scrambled to pull the fabric out of the Duke's teeth before he swallowed it as a cackle of giggles burst from the blonde beauty who watched in amusement. Arthur stepped back away from the mule who extended himself to the maximum range he could on his lead, his teeth still desperately reaching for Arthur as he looked at the slobbery bandana now torn in two. "I'm glad I can entertain you," Arthur said and pocketed it as she finally overcame her giggle fit. "My apologies, but I had to come over and talk to you myself, and I'm not here to tease I promise." She said and stepped back allowing Arthur the space he needed so he could finish unloading his kill to the butcher. Arthur returned to his task and started to unstrap the second buck from the Duke's once he distracted him with a sugar cube. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Arthur asked as he hauled the buck onto his shoulder with ease. "If you would allow myself and the girls to buy you dinner, as a thank you. Bella is too proud to ask for help let alone thank someone herself. She doesn't like being a damsel in distress, but you stepped in when we needed someone to step in." The mysterious blonde stood and watched him work, and Arthur could feel her gaze as he hulled the buck onto the table. A sly little grin on his face and he puffed his chest out a little bit when he stood back up. Taking off his hat to comb his hair back with his fingers as the butcher handed him a handful of cash. He took the money and thanked the butcher and walked back to girl replacing his hat on his head. "Well, I was going to ride north and camp in the mountains, but with this storm coming in and an invitation as welcoming like that. I'm still going to have to decline." Arthur said bluntly walking up to her to be direct. Her mouth was agape, and she gasped, but there was a massive smile on her face in response to the grin on Arthur's. "You are something else. Well maybe this will change your mind, My name is Lady Rosalyn Bush, and I suggest you reconsider. " She said and cocked an eyebrow at him. "That's a familiar name," Arthur said looking at her curiously. Her face brought a sense of nostalgia to him, he had seen it before, and that name was making it even more so.   "A man who enjoys camping must have a can of beans or two in his satchel. Perhaps you should take one out and look a little closer." She crossed her arms with an air of pride. Arthur, now curious, did indeed have a can of beans on him, so he flipped open his bag and not taking his eyes off her pulled it out and checked the label quickly. "Well, I'll be damned. Is this you?" He asked turning the label towards her. The image of a lady painted on the side beside the company brand with long braided blonde hair and big blue eyes. "Yes sir, and that is my recipe too." She said with a smile and struck the pose on the side label flashing her brilliant smile which was what brought that nostalgia to him. Many years were spent staring at her face on the side of the can beside campfires and dirty ditches.   "Then I must be dreaming if I am in the presence of someone truly famous because I sure do enjoy your beans very much," Arthur said and gave her a bow. A little guilt behind his eyes. "Most cowboys do, but I don't very much like all the cowboys. Or girls for that matter, ever since we arrived the people have been nothing but hostile towards me and my caravan. It's been a while since a kind soul has crossed our path and I do not wish to risk bad luck on the rest of our journey by not taking care of those who show my girls and I kindness. So I ask you to please reconsider and let me spoil you." Rosalyn was very stern with her words but welcoming and kind. She spoke like Dutch did when addressing the gang with a fierce intensity behind her eyes which locked onto his. He fell victim to her gaze once again this time unable to decline. "Oh alright, you can buy me dinner. Though I'm probably going to need a bath as well to clean up after that little fight your girl started." Arthur added and unhitched his two companions from their post. If he played his cards right, she might even cover all his costs to stay in town for the night and perhaps he could leave with his pockets a little heavier then when he came. "My girls start no fights, but we do finish them I'll explain later. The carriage got stuck in the mud, so everyone already went on foot to the hotel. Why don't you get those two cuties stabled and meet me there?" Rosalyn said and hicked her skirt up to ready herself to trek through the mud. Her boots already stained with two inches of dirt on them, and they didn't look like good boots to stomp in through the mud. "Get on." Arthur gestured to Princess. "Really?" She asked gazing at the beautiful white Arabian. "You're wearing expensive clothes. I'll give you a ride." He said and held the lead for Princess towards her. "Is it friendly?" Rosalyn asked and approached the horse. "She's skittish, but with me here she will be alright." He said as Rosalyn walked up to her and took the lead before approaching her cautiously and slowly. Princess swayed away from her at first but relaxing as the Lady pet her neck gently.   "She is beautiful. What's her name." "Princess." "Ah, I get it." She pointed between the two animals and chuckled. "Very cute. Am I to be right to assume this is a rare horse? I don't see many albino white horses roaming around" She asked and hoisted herself up and sat side saddle on the White Arabian and held the horn to keep her steady. Arthur got up onto the Duke who honked very loudly when he was mounted and turned to her. "You could say so, hard to tame though. Probably won't be able to sell her for much if I can't get her to relax." He clicked his teeth and gave the command, and the pair started back down the hill towards the stable.

Most of the ride was spent giving Rosalyn instructions on how to keep Princess settled, with a strange rider on her back and her attempts to ride all ladylike. The horse was left agitated the entire time. Rosalyn almost getting bucked off twice when she tried to lead her to roughly yanking on the reins trying to stop herself from falling off.   "Okay, I think it's time I got off now." Rosalyn's voice was shaky as she struggled with Princess to lead her up to the stable. One of the hands had to run out and grab Princess before she reared and Rosalyn hopped off her quickly as the Horse began to prance more and more, and the blonde escaped the horse. "I should have told you to sit properly, or else she won't respect you."  Arthur was chuckling the whole way down riding gracefully on the back of the Mule who marched with pride now that the love of his life was riding his back. "Well, it's a good thing the hotel isn't far from here. I think walking will be safer." Rosalyn ran out of the stable leaving the horse hand and Arthur to take care of hitching them up. They were de-saddled, housed and fed before Arthur left them inside and headed back out to meet Rosalyn who was in the middle of paying the Stableman. "Give them some extra treats and a bath for me please." She said and gave the gent a kiss on the cheek and an extra 5 dollars. "Yes, indeed Lady Bush." He said and tipped his hat to her running off as Arthur approached. 

"Would you like to meet my girls now?" Rosalyn asked. "Sure!" Arthur said and took off his hat as they headed into the hotel, he didn't even have to ask she was throwing money around.  What was once a hunting trip to escape the gang's noose, was going to turn into a pretty hefty score if he played this woman right.

[lillaxtrigger]

Young hope: Chapter 18

Within the void of a dark room, light begins to poor in upon the crack of the door. A young red headed teenage girl peeks within the retreating darkness and calls out for whoever it might dwell. “Opal? You in here?” Chloe wonder aloud. Once she fully opens the door, the hallway lights begins to flood the decorative bedroom. Several dishes litter the furnishings of the less then well kept room, the leftover food they still hold looking not as appetizing as they once were. The once proud dragon girl that she sought could be found laying upon her bed, stewing in the woeful market brand soup called depression, now with extra bits of sadness. “Beat it. I’m not in the mood for any of your crap.” the monk demands. “Oh, Opal. I can’t stand to see you like this...Later.”

Beginning to depart from the room, she figures if she wants to lock herself in her dank ass bedroom for the rest of time, that ain’t no skin off her back. But Chloe halts in her tracks once she hears the frosty ice dragon command and ask her to: “Wait a moment. Why did you come here? You didn’t just come to kick me while I was down, did you?” Upon turning back towards her the bed ridden monk, she admits after a sigh that: “Ryu wanted me to come over and check to see if you were doing alright. Said something about you not returning anybodies calls. He tried to come over, you’re mom told him that you didn’t wanna see anyone.” “But she’s not home right now. The doors are supposed to be locked.” “Yeah, I broke in, but that’s not the point. The point is that you haven’t been showing up to school in days. Everyone is worried sick about you and they won’t stop bitching at me to do something about it for some god forsaken reason.” Hearing this, Opal finally raises from the groove left in her bed to question that notion of worry with: “Oh, now everyone’s concerned about me? That’s priceless. Wasn’t enough that Ryu came out of the closet, but both Renee and Tricia haven’t been answering either. And on top of all this avalanche of trouble, my powers haven’t been acting right ever since that whole deal with Circe.” “You’re powers?” “Yeah, I can’t turn into a dragon anymore. No matter how hard I try, not even a scale pops up.” “Can you still control water?” To demonstrate, the fallen dragon casts her palm toward a cup of clear water resting upon the nightstand and lifts the liquid right from the glass. From their, she twirls the water all around the room, weaving the liquid both around her and unwelcomed guests. Finally, she tosses the water towards one of her unsuspecting posters, freezing into icicles and embedding themselves within the bedroom walls. A disheartened breath escaping the dragons once mighty lungs, the water warrior sadly admits that: “It just doesn’t feel the same. Like a part of me was just ripped away.”

“I don’t see what the whole friken she bang is, honestly. So you can’t turn into a scaly ice breathing monstrosity anymore, big whoop. I’d call that a plus.” “You don’t get it! Dragon transformation is a big deal on my moms side of the family! I’d be like saying to her: “Hey mom. The part you gave to me that made me a part of your heritage was ripped straight outta me in the blink of an eye. Too bad I wasted it all on nothing but petty teen soap opera shenanigans fighting over some stupid cute looking boy!” If she found that out, she might never look at me the same way again.”

With that admittance of defeat, the fallen dragon flops right back onto the comfort of her awaiting bed. A sorry site to behold for sure. One that tugs on her former nemesis heartstrings. Where before, the redhead would bask in seeing the ice monk in such a pitying wreck of torn emotions and battered feelings, now she can’t help feel like an asshole upon such a thought. With Ryu having been taken out of the equation, they don’t really have much of a reason to engage in such bad blood battles anymore. Their whole damn rivalry was kinda shallow and petty upon retrospect. Two young ladies fighting over little more then the passing fancies of an oblivious cute boy. Fucking reality TV drama all up in this bitch. Best get to work on digging their way out from the shallow remains of this broken love triangle they once had the gaw to call a relationship.

The red head begins her excavation by sitting on the side of the morning girl bed, grabbing Opals attention but with a light touch to her shoulder. “Look, the whole Ryu thing wasn’t that big a deal looking back. The dates that Ryu took us both on never led into anything serious. Probably why I never spared much thought on it when he came out.” This claims start reaching the ice monk, pulling her face out from the folds of her pillow. “As for the dragon thing; That witch bitch snatched up a lot of kids and tried to drain them of their powers. That whole fiasco wasn’t your fault.” “Yeah it was. I got careless. One night, I heard a cry for help in a dark alleyway, the next thing I know, a weird glow surrounded me I a was on the slumber express. I’m lucky to even be alive.” “That’s the thing. You are alive. I’m sure as long as that was the fact, your mom couldn’t give less of a shit about your powers.” “I don’t know. I always felt such a sense of pride when going dragon. Like I was doing that side of my family proud. Without it, I don’t even feel that much anymore.” “Quit spouting that self pity horse waste and listen. You don’t need any powers to feel like that. You’re already good at so many other stuff.” “Like?” “Um...Uh well, Mmm...You’re pretty good at getting on my nerves?” An upset exhale through the ice monks nose passes before Opal sinks back to the comfort of her bed sheets. Seems like this mission to bury the hatchet is hitting hard rock fast. Gonna need something to punch through before the ground below collapses. Perhaps a bit of dynamite might fair to shake things up.

“Alright then, fine. Stay in here and rot for all I care. I guess with you all cooped up in here, I’m gonna have to be the bearer of bad news to your mom.” The threat is more then enough to shock her former rival out from the folds of her sheets and call her out. “You wouldn’t dare. I can call the police before you even get the chance.” she counters, her phone ready at the dial. “Got her number from the sticky note on the fridge. Care to try me?” she boasts, threatening the same notion with the mothers number on the screen. The two phone toting teenagers stare each other down, their fingers itching for the call. The air gave off a much less risky wild west shootout, but with the guns being their phones and the bullets being the blackmail.

Finally, ice monk caves into the red head threats and lowers her cellular device. “Just let me get changed.” “There we go, now was that so hard?” “Fucking glaciers.”

Their trip on this self esteem recovery cruise is first through the metaphorical oceans of the Townsville mall. Although the damage from the town wide riot proved to still linger, repairs were already halfway done. Though Chloe is barely able to notice as she proves herself far too distracted by Opals choice of apparel. “Good god girl, what are you wearing?” “What?” “Why in high hell did you decide to go out in that?” “My sweater?” Opal checks, a warm green sweater wrapped around her body. “Yeah.” “It’s just in case of cold snaps. I’m been getting them ever since Circe messed with my powers.” With a disgruntled groan, the redhead turns away from the walking fashion disaster she called her guest on this trip. It’s far worse then she thought. The poor girls taste in clothing had gone off the deep end. Something must be done to cure this deterioration of clothing choices, post haste, before the poor girl crosses into the realm of the hideously abstract.

Chloe looks about the repaired walls of the mall for a single glimmer of hope to remedy Opals unfashionable affliction. Beyond the gushes of the fountain, a newly added boutique could be taken in view. Perfect. Now to just convince the victim in question to come along for the shopping spree. Best to approach this carefully. One backhanded insult could sink this entire cruise before it even leaves shore. “Hey, you know what always cheers me up when I’m feeling like a puddle of street piss? Buying some new clothes. Nothing like a shopping spree to perk those sorrowful spirits, my mom always says.” “Why? What’s wrong with what I wear now?” Opal questions. “Oh, nothing, nothing. I just wanna see what cute outfits you look good in.” “I don’t know. Growing up in a temple out in China for most of your life doesn’t exactly develop your taste in fashion.” “Well all that’s gonna change now. Come on.” A swipe to the wrist and Chloe set off towards the clothing shop with Opal in hand.

Within the shop of fashionable apparel and cute accessories, the duo partake in the fashion line inside to their hearts content. Tee’s, jeans, and accessories they go through, helping each other on what looks best on whom, though Chloe does most of the judging for what builds Opals wardrobe. Gotta build up a sturdy sense of fashion for the future. Upon one point in their shopping spree, Opal manages to pull out a pair of jeans with a design of a sky blue dragon stitched on the legging. Never though she’d get such a cruel reminder from a pair of pants of all things. Before the ice monk has the chance to dwell on what she lost a moment further, her red headed host snatches the glittering garments from her grasp and instead lends her a new pair of designer jeans, these sporting a pink petals design lacing the leggings. A site that cheers up the dragon a fair bit and reminds her to look towards the future anew.

With their fresh line of fashionable fair in hand, the pair head straight towards the changing room, eager to garb themselves with the clothes they picked. One at a time, they enter and exit, switching who changes while the other judges, even exchanging their picks at several points.

Once that fashionable changing montage has run its course, they walk out with their bags of newly perched apparel in tow. Chloe seems to notice Opals mood having lifted. looking like her woes were starting to lift away. “Seems that mini shopping spree might have done the trick. You’re looking a tons better.” “Yeah. I’d admit, I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I did. Wearing the same old stuff everyday and you never really appreciate how you look.” The young monk pulls from her bag of acquired wares a dark purple skirt, one that she had taken a fancy eye to. “Not once did I think I’d pick out something as cute as this.” Upon inspecting the piece carefully, the red head finds it best to give out one more piece of expertise to her budding bud. “Opal, listen, listen...That skirt would go amazingly with something of a light violet.” “You think so.” “Oh trust me girl. Boys would be throwing sticks of dynamite to get a piece of you.” A light giggle escaping her lips, she gives her appreciation for the piece of advice with a humble: “Thanks Chloe.”

Looking ahead, the conductor of this blissful bullet train lays her sight on an obstruction upon the tracks. Their former crush on the approach, with a yellow and black haired individual at his side. God dammit, why does his dreamy ass have to rear itself now of all times! If Opal takes a peek of him hanging out with that bumblebee haired douche bag, it’ll send her back on a one way trip to the precinct of misery and sorrow. Time for this Spicer express to take a sudden detour off the rails. Hastily, she shoves Opal into the nearest store before her site rest upon the approaching duo.

Recovering from the sudden shove, the monk turns towards the red head, and naturally demands an explanation. “What the hell, Chloe? What’s your deal?” “Sorry, thought I might have spotted something in here that you might like.” “In business attire?” “Yeah, sure will find something in this little-what?” Finally, she notices the shop that Chloe had shove themselves into and finds Opal to be correct. The two found themselves in the midst of a business clothing store. Not even a good one where the choices avalible were stylish, more along the lines of causal office wear as the red head looks on in horror the droll line of dress shirts and khakis filling the racks. Oh god. What kind of dorkish hellscape have they forced upon themselves? Even standing aside such passe choices of wares is enough to make the girls skin creep. Best make their escape as soon as possible. “Oh, whoops. My bad. Must have been something I imagined. What’d you say we bounce outta here and look somewhere else for you to where did you go?” Beside her, the ice monk seemed to have slipped form her side, witnessing Opal travel further into the depths of the store. Dear god no. The red head hesitates not a moment further to chase after her guest, rushing into the racks as fast as she can.

Chloe takes her frantic search through the racks and shelves of this office depot, hoping to pull Opal out from the deep wells of this company appointed shop. Has the poor girl finally delved into the depths of madness, or she bravely naive enough to think that she might find something to pull a decent look off in this joint? Dammit, it won’t be long before the spirit of drab office apparel consumes her very being. There might be no saving her at that point. A fate she intends to have not befall the monk.

Her search takes her to the back of the store, the girl she sought coming out garbed in a long sleeved lilac dress shirt in junction with her new purple skirt. “Well, how do I look?” Opal wonders. “You...You look...Not half bad actually.” “You think so?” “Yeah. The skirt actually makes the whole thing surprisingly work.” The red head takes a quite sigh of relief upon the girls overall look. That was quite the scare for the minute there. Thought she’d had her sense of fashion poisoned within this horrid realm of dull business apparel. “Glad you like it so much. Just wish I had enough money to take it home. Spent the last of it over at the other place.” “Oh don’t you worry about cash. Let me take care of cash.” “Are you sure?” “Of course. I’m god damn loaded. Just give me a second.” As the red head goes off to pay for her former foes new digs, the watery young woman looks over to her sweater that rested within one of the bags with a mix of slight attachment and worry.

The next stop on this road trip in the RV of gleeful merriment and mirthful recovery was grabbing a bite to eat. Since Chloe picked where they went at the last few times, she figures it might be time for Opal to take the wheel on a couple stops. Where the ice monk decides to take this road trip was at a Chinese restaurant. And not one of those cheap ass takeout restaurants you find along a strip mall either, we’re talking about the exotic stuff all up in this biz.

The two ladies await for their servings to arrive, admiring the décor planted throughout the restaurant mixed with the eastern style music playing on the speakers above. The variety of food being served to the awaiting people matched the eastern motif like no other, emitting the unique scents that one would find in the land of dragons. The entire restaurant gave out the vibe that you just stepped within a little slice of China. “Wow, this place looks so exotic. Nice choice for a stop, girl.” “Yeah, I thought coming here might cheer me up a bit. The food they serve always reminds me of the stuff I’d eat at my dad temple. Hope he’s doing alright over there.”

Upon that wonder, their food arrives, the waiter resting the delectable dishes before them. While Opal has ordered herself a delectable bowl of chow mein with a side of fried rice, Chloe was given a saucy serving of sweet and sour chicken. The combining aroma’s of the dishes create an overwhelming scent that girls noses eagerly take in. They can practically feel the tantalizing tastes of the Chinese already and hesitate not a moment longer to dig in.

Although the water warrior does not hesitate partaking in her decided dish, relishing the nearly nostalgic flavors; the same cannot be said for the red head, having trouble as early as handling the pair of chopstick she was given No matter what way she choose to hold the foreign utensils, the sticks would always slip from her grip. Looking over, Chloe finds her former rival having next to no trouble accomplishing such a task, taking in bite after bite of the noodles set before her. How the hell does anybody eat with these damn things? Who’s the jackass that thought that eating your food with a pair of sticks would be the most practical idea? The better question is how it became a standard in some countries? Ah, well. No shame in asking for a fork.

After grabbing the attention of a nearby waiter with a wave of her hand, Chloe asks them: “Excuse me. Have you got any forks or spoons I can use?” “Oh, sorry. I’m afraid we can’t serve anyone those at them moment. All of them are being washed.” The waiter takes their leave, leaving Chloe little option but to risk experimenting with the unique set of utensils. Well shit, guess this exotically enticing meal will have to wait for the doggy bag, then. But the red head stomach relay’s to her its objections upon waiting a moment further with quite the upsetting growl, demanding the food before them enter her body at once. Fine, you win stomach. Guess no better time to practice then now.

One more time, she holds the sticks together, pinching them carefully between her fingers. Slowly, she navigates the ends towards her chicken, pinching the piece between the tips. Ha, gotcha! Now to just lift the sour sweet piece and finally partake in the long awaited flavor. But inches away from her gaping mouth, it slips from the sticks delecate grasp and plops upon the table. The gooey sweet and sour sauce splatters upon impact, tempting to land on her newly bought designer garments if not for the red head blocking palm. Jesus, that was close! If even a single drip of this tantalizing nectar got on her person, its doubtful the stains would ever come out. Why didn’t she just order the fucking rice bowl?  Damn this enticing Chinese explosion of sauces and flavors. The taste of exotic foods was always such a crippling weakness to the young lady, no matter how unashamedly juicy it may present itself. Its all just so damn tasty.

Opal on the other hand proves to be halfway done with her chow mein, taking in the delectable noodles with nothing but pinches from her chopsticks. As she continues to dine on her dish however, she can’t help but notices Chloe’s fumbles upon the same venture, watching as she struggles to lift even a piece of her chicken. Where before, the monk of water would take the opportunity to show off amidst her former rivals falls from grace, she instead feels motives for a much opposite form of action.

Pinching the piece of sweet and sour chicken with a stick in each hand, she slowly lifts the longing flavor of the saucy poultry towards her mouth, only to have the piece fall right back on the plate. Right from the cusp of a boiling rage, Opal cools her growling with a grasp of her shoulder while relieving the sticks form her grasp. “Chloe, relax. Chopsticks aren’t that hard once you figure out how to use them. Let me show you how to hold them before you stab someone’s eyes out.” The monk returns the red head sticks back to a single palm, placing them between her index finger like a pair of pencils. “Just place the two sticks between you’re index finger and hold then with your middle finger and thumb like so.” That step finished, the next one shows Opal guiding their hands towards Chloe’s awaiting delectable dish, pinching a piece between the tips of the sticks using her finger and thumb. Finally, the piece makes its trip towards Chloe’s long awaiting lips once more, finishing its abrupt journey with a well deserved bite. At long last, the red head can savor the sweet and sour flavors that swirl within her mouth, the exotic tastes queuing a satisfied moan.   After swallowing a piece of her well desired dish with an ending sigh, the red turns to the water monk, with a thankful: “Thanks a bunch, don’t know how much longer I could risk getting any of that sauce on my clothes.” “Hey, don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do after you bought this shirt for me.” “Now I can finally dig into this bitch!” Eagerly, Chloe pinches another piece and quickly laps up the chicken towards her mouth, but she proves that she still need work with the utensils as she drops the piece just as fast. A lowkey growl escaping the cracks of her teeth, Opal gives her reassuring calm by noting: “Hey, don’t sweat it. All it takes is a little patients and some practice. You should have seen the first time I handled them, one of them wound up flying in my dads ear.” “Really?” “Yeah, I was almost grounded.” Sharing a pleasing giggle, the two return to their meals with the aim to finish.

After a while, the duo finally end their meals with a relaxing slouch and a hearty sigh. “Man that hit the spot. That chow mein you shared with me wasn’t half bad.” Chloe admits. “That sweet and sour chicken you picked out was pretty nice too. This place serves some good Chinese.” Opal shares. “Well, hope you hadn’t had you’re fill yet. We still got some day to burn off to make some stops.” Rising from her booth, the red head prepares her trip towards the bathroom with the followup of: “But first, I gotta make a stop myself.”

One trip to the bathroom passing and Chloe prepares her walk back to pay for the check. Something that catches her eye makes her halt in her tracks however. Her former crush, Ryu, sitting in a booth facing the young man he walked beside with earlier. Are you fucking for real, here? Is he just following them or is this just some massive ass coincidence. Better bolt it before the site strikes Opals gaze, else the whole day plan might come to a screeching stop.

As the ice monk prepares for their departure, she takes witness to her red headed friend making a swift rush in her direction. Quickly setting the money she owes upon the table, Chloe takes Opals hands and rushes for the door. “Come on. The night is burning.” she insists. Little do both of them fail to realizes is that the water warrior has yet to retrieve her sweater, resting upon the seat of their former booth.

With their stomachs stuffed and their taste buds quenched, Opal yet again takes the reins of this frolicsome venture, riding into the realm of infinite possibilities as the day soon fades to make way for the towns dusk. However, in what seemed like a cruel joke, the water monk decides that the next stop upon this girls night out was an office supply emporium of all place. “You know, Opal. You had me with the restaurant and then you lost me here. We’re supposed to be having fun tonight. Why did you drag us hear of all places?” “I just need to stop in here to get several things. My supplies stock has taken a huge nosedive and I need to refuel.” Hearing a load groan escape the redheads lungs, Opal reassures her to: “Don’t worry. I promise we won’t be here for long. Maybe you can help me pick out some cute files.” With that, a much louder groan escapes the red head.

Surely, an excuse that she has heard many a times by now. It’s always just a couple minutes, isn’t it? But a couple could soon easily morph into several, as evidence by the so many times Kingsley has drag her and her parent to this accursed depot of business tools. Seriously, every time she wound up in here, the minutes just slug on to a dead crawl. She’d even try faking sick a couple time just for the hope of relief from the ticking of the clock. Though the red head dares make an acceptation this time around, as her determination to put the petty past behind beckon to the call. This is a day of redemption dammit, a day that will not be tainted by the impulses of rising boredom. If her budding bud wishes to partake in this spree through the mart of office supplies, so be it. Chloe’s only concern is how long she’ll be able to last amidst the droll wilds.

And its not long before the red head resolves swiftly begins to wear thin. The trip through the depot leads them through shelves of staples, plenty of papers, and countless amounts of pencil and pen alike. While Opal enjoys the weirdly tranquil calm of looming through the interior of the store, the redhead was beginning to loose her mind trekking through all of it once again as the horridly shitty excuse for store music breaches her ears for the 10th time in a row. Seriously, its all they fucking play here! She’s heard it on loop, so many times, she occasionally hears echoes of its reprise long after she’s departed. If she has to navigate her way through even another hall of boring file organizers, someones spine is coming out of their backs. The wonder if her former rival just dragged her hear to make her suffer, begins to take hold.

Upon the cusp of a rage induced shit fit, something that catches her eye halts her readying freak-out. Twas nothing more complex then a simple pen, a pen with a rather unique design catching Chloe’s eye. It looks...really nice actually. The elegant pattern swirling along the barrel, the gracious clip seamlessly matching the design of the cap, almost like the designs of a fashionable dress. How the hell is it possible for a pen to look this good. Throughout all the times she’s been through this god forsaken office store, she’s never noticed such a gem. Can’t let this catch slip through her grasp. Taking her newfound pen, she turns back to find she has lost site of her frosty friend. Dammit, where did she wonder of to, now? Swear, you take your eye off some people for a moment and they’re gone, just like that. Better find her before she looses herself in the swirling nether of clip boards and printer ink.

In the midst of her search through this office emporium, Chloe comes across a mess of supplies forming trailing throughout the isles. These supplies seems a little familiar. Staples, paper, pen and pencil. Weren’t these the things that Opal was shopping for? Hard to say for certain. Almost everything in here looks the same, all of it blending together to the red heads point of view. But something still feels amiss. She knows Opal isn’t this incompetently clumsy just to drop her shit everywhere like this. Whatever’s happened, she better follow the trail fast.

The path of paper and pencil leads Chloe all throughout the depot, weaving through the countless isles of supplies and customers. Each second passing is another moment the red heads worry grows. The trail beginning to wear itself thin the further down it leads, she hopes that the path doesn’t come crawling to a close soon.

The paper and pen path leads towards the back of the store, Chloe finally coming across Opal huddled in the corner. “Opal, finally. What the hell happened? Why’d you just ditch me like-...Huh?” A closer look upon the ice monk revealed her to be suffering from a nasty shiver, her breath on full display within the heated space. “Opal, what’s going on!? What’s happening!?” “Cold snap...Can’t find...sweater...Need warmth...now!”

Not a moment further does Chloe wait to drag her freezing friend out from the business depot, ignoring the alarm that sounds off as they pass. Out in the parking lot, the red head looks around, hoping to find someplace for her bitter cold bud to thaw. Can’t take to the skies, gliding through cold evening air is just asking to make things worse. Too far from home either. The trip potentially taking roughly an hour on foot. Not the kind of time she has to spend. There’s gotta be somewhere around here a couple gals can shelter themselves from the chilling cold of the fall winds. Wherever that may be, they better find it fast, else Opal might make for a fine example of the looming dangers of hypothermia.

Up and down and all around the block they go, hoping somewhere around was the salvation of heat and warmth the freezing monk so desires. With each passing second, her shaking worsens. Chloe feeling Opals shivers against her body worsen as the red head holds her tight for warmth. Come on! There has to be somewhere here that can save them from the freezing faults of fall. Another minute longer and shemight succumb to a frightening frosty fate.

In the midst of her frantic search for the desiring relief of warm do the duo spot an orange glow, piercing through the darkness of an alleyway on the wayside. Not a moment longer do they rush towards the light, finding within the alley a burning oil drum that few of the cities homeless have huddled around to bask in its heat. Perhaps not the most appealing places to seek shelter from old mans winters knock at the door, but given Opals dropping temperature, it’ll have to make do. The freezing monk wastes not an another moment to approach the glowing blaze, warming herself against the radiating heat. “You feeling better?” the red head asks her. “Yeah...Warming up at least.” “Hah….that’s nice to hear. Thought for a minute there you would have ended up turning into a grape dragon popsicle.” “I...I don’t get it.” “Ah, see it’s cause you’re wearing purple and you almost froze to-” “My sweater! I don’t know where it could have possibly wound up. I need to get it back.” “Oh...Well don’t beat yourself up about it. I’ll just get ya something even better to where. Maybe even a designer coat with silk lacing in the-” “No!” The suddenly harsh objection from the warming warrior makes the fiery red head and the other homeless jump back. “I need that sweater back ASAP...I can’t go home without it.” she demands under the frost of her breath. “Alright, fine, Jeez. I’ll get it back for you.”

As Chloe takes flight from the orange lit warmth of the burning blaze, she wonders what the hell bossy MC ice fangs deal is. It’s just a stupid sweater. Not even a good looking one either. That snot colored abomination didn’t even look that good on her to begin with. If she was that worried about getting cold, it’d be best to get her a much more stylish designer coat instead. Perhaps something of a magenta color would tie her look together quite nice. Something to spare thought to as she begins her search for the ice monks sweater. Don’t want all that hard work and cash in cheering the girl up to go right down the drain. The only question left unanswered is where they could have left the damn thing. Only four places it could possibly be at. Seems this mystery is gonna require retracing their steps.

First stop on this mystery march was back at the business supply emporium. “Nah, we haven’t seen you’re friends sweater, But we did see you two run off without paying.” the cashier mentions. A disappointed sigh escapes the red heads mouth as she pulls out the money she owns.

Second stop upon this sweater search was at the boutique, the cashier at the front claiming: “No, you’re friends sweater wasn’t left here. Good thing, too. That horrid thing best not be left in our shop.” Although inclined to agree with the sneering comment, the red head ultimately takes her leave.

Up next was the office dress shop, and much like the other shops before that Opals sought after sweater is: “Ain’t here. Sorry. Though while I have you, would you like to try out are new membership plan. You get a new pair of khakis sent every month?” Nope. An irritated growl seeps through her teeth as she walks out.

Only place left to check on the list was the Chinese restaurant they dined at earlier. Luckily Chloe manages to strike a bit of gold during the hunt, the waiter confirming that: “Yes, it was here. You two left it at the booth you dined after rushing out.” “Really? Mind if I have it back then?” “Oh, sorry. A couple of guys that came in here earlier snatched it up on their way out before any of us could grab it.” “What!? Can’t you at least tell me what they look like?” Chloe pleas. “Eh, not really sure. Didn’t really get a good look at them going out. Don’t know what to tell you.” “I-...Thank you for your time...” A weary moan leaves the girls lungs at she exits the restaurant.

Well, that proved to be a complete waist of time. Going around everywhere only to find out that Opals stupid sweater was stolen. Who in their right mind would look to a sweater left on a random seat of a Chinese restaurant and go: “Ah yeah. That shits mine, motherfucka!” Fuckin really now! Now how to break the news to her as gently as possible?...Wonder if the boutique still open?

A round trip back to the alleyway the fiery red head left her frosty friend behind and she finds the lady of the hour has left the scenes entirely. Oh, where the hell did she wonder off to now? Can’t exactly message the girl to see where she’s at. Never bothered to get her number. Okay Chloe, calm down. She’s not stupid. If she left, then that means that her cold spells must have wore off. At least she’s alright for now. Only question left was where she went. Now think; where would someone who grew up in a Chinese temple for most of their life go to when feeling like frosty shitcicles? ...

Within the confines of the Townsville park, a wide view of Chinese themed scenery stretched before her. Flora and fauna from the very country it was attempting to emulate planted throughout the section of park. Buildings matching the old atheistic placed about to go with the tranquil scenery, some housing public services. A calming stream leading throughout the park flowed from the ponds almost like lifeblood, little wooden bridges connecting the lands for safe passage. Completing the entire eastern aesthetic with the paper lamps suspended upon the poles. Its a miracle this place remained untouched during the town wide riot. It always looked so gorgeous. The redhead can’t imagine what would happen this beautiful portal into the land of dragons were destroyed overnight. The park just wouldn’t be the same. But now’s not the time for exotic admiration, there’s a friend that needs to be found, dammit. Best find her soon before this nightly fall air makes her succumb to another cold snap.

The koi ponds, the ancient bell, the lily garden, the bamboo thicket each and every corner the red head looks for the lady of the hour, finding not a single speck of the frosty lass anywhere. Checking in the buildings around proved to be just as a fruitless endeavor, the ice monk failing to be in any of them. Maybe she just went home after all. As Chloe begins her trek out from the eastern themed park, her expression perks upon spoting a familiar figure standing atop one of the wooden bridges crossing the streams.

Opal herself was busy staring down into the flowing stream below, entranced by the passing koi fish as a senses of waning nostalgia envelopes her. “Hey girl!” The call for attention snaps her out of the enticing trance, finding her fiery red head friend approaching from the side. “There you are. I was getting worried you might’ve went home. Good thing I caught ya hanging around here, huh. Nice to see that you’re feeling better too.” “Uh, thanks...Did you find my sweater yet?” “Ehhh...No, wound up getting stolen.” “What!?” the ice monk exclaims, visibly distraught by the baring news. “But don’t you fret. I got you something even better. Ready?” With that, the red head presents her final gift on this metaphorical merriment cruise liner: a top of the line fur designer coat. “Ta da!” Placing the coat in Opals grasp, Chloe goes into further detail about said gift with: “Figured it’d help you plenty with any freeze spells you might catch, with it’s thermal wool interior and heavy outer fabric, that baby should keep you warm no matter how low your temperature drops.” “I...Um...Th-thanks...I guess.” “What, you don’t like it?” “It’s just...I really wanted that back sweater back is all. And hearing it get stolen is just-” “You still going on about that national offense of fashion? Just forget about it. That coat I picked out for you is way better then that snot green disaster any day of the week” That snide remark manages to set the water warrior off to boil, arguing with: “Excuse me!? That offense of fashion was special to me. You can’t just replace something like that.” “Oh, come on. I guarantee you that coat you’re holding has had a lot more money dunked into it then that mucus colored mess ever held. What kind of value could that hideous excuse for clothing possibly have?” “It was a gift from my cousin, you bitch!” A mix of shock and guilt befalls the red head upon this fact reaching her ears. “I haven’t seen him in years, but he sent me that sweater as a birthday gift several months ago.” “Opal, I-” “You know, I was honestly hoping that we could have put all all our bad blood business behind us and maybe bury the hatchet. I actually liked hanging out with you and thought you were really cool. Like, I was thinking, “Hey, I guess she isn’t as bad after all.”… But I was wrong. You’re really are just and as selfish and inconsiderate as I thought.” Her words of bitter scorn and deep remorse delivered, the fallen dragon tosses her newfound coat into the mercy of the sky, the fall winds above claiming her ill received gift for themselves. The emotionally wounded warrior then departs, leaving Chloe to stew in the wonder of her actions.

Hmm, figured that conversation could have taken a much smoother route. Things might have not taken such a drastically worse turn if the red head hadn’t crashed into the ice monks nerves like that. Maybe it’s not to late to apologize for the sudden wreck?...You know what, no. If that bitch isn’t thankful for all the money I spent on her, so be it. There’s better things to do with ones time anyhow.

Ready to depart and leave the upset dragon to her woes, Chloe turns around to find her former crush right behind her. “Hey Chloe, what’s up.” “Ryu, hey.” Whoa, when the hell did he get here!? Wait a second, did he catch that whole fiasco? Judging by his upbeat expression, its a safe wager to assume that he didn’t see much. Play it cool, Chloe. “So, what brings you around here?” “Just hanging out with this cool guy I met the other day. I spotted you and Opal at that Chinese restaurant earlier and was hoping I could catch you two to talk for a bit.” “R-really? With what?” “Well, this might sound kinda weird. But I always got the impression that you two might have been fighting over me.” “What? No. No. That’s crazy. Whatever gave you that silly idea?” Oh god. “Well, I kinda figured that both of you had a thing for me and wanted to say sorry if I may have broken a couple hearts coming out.” “Ryu, it’s no big deal. Honest, I’ve moved on.” “Okay. I was a little worried there. Hey um, if you see Opal, mind giving her something for me as a sort of apology.” Curiously, the red head awaits as the boy before her turns from behind, requesting her to: “Wait for it...”

Shortly, he pulls his of apology which takes the form of Opals lost sweater. “Her sweater!?” “Yeah, I kinda saw you two rush out of the restaurant without it. Figured she might want it back. You know where I can find her?” “Um-Uh… Swiftly, she nabs the sought after garment from the boys grasp, promising him that: “Don’t sweat it. I’ll make sure she gets it the next time I see her.” “Oh, great. Thanks. You know, I’m so happy you two are finally getting along. I guess with me outta the game, there’s really no reason to fight, is there?" “Ha ha, yeah. Good to hear. Ha.” God dammit. “Cool. Listen, I gotta get back to this guy that I’m hanging out with. Maybe work up the nerve to ask him out. Tell Opal I said hi!” With the boys leave, Chloe gives her wave goodbye, waning the further he goes as she says farewell with: “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell her. Good luck on your little date, Ryu. Ha ha ha...ha ha...ha...Shit.”

Whelp, guess that was the final nail in the coffin, wasn’t it? The red head felt like a complete asshole. I mean sure, at first she did all this because nobody would shut the hell up about it, even tempting to leave when the fallen dragon proved to be too stubborn. But during their time spent together, they found more common ground then either of them realize. Maybe there was even a chance to form a budding relationship where war once waged. Fuck, why did all that have to come out of her mouth. Hope the soil isn’t too far tainted for anything to grow now.

Around the park she goes once more, hoping to catch the ice monk before her bitter departure. However, another sweep around the park proved fruitless as she fails to find Opal anywhere. Please say she didn’t leave already.

Within the confines of a hidden grotto, she finally found the frosty dragon of ice, dwelling in the darkness upon a stone seat. Opal herself not to happy that her depending rival uncovered her, evident by questioning with a mildly harsh: “What do you want?” “I um…I was hoping to catch you so I could say sorry for the sweater. Didn’t know it meant that much to you. I shouldn’t have made us leave without it.” A depressed breath escaping the fallen dragons mouth, she turns her gaze away from the red head. “But guess what, it didn’t get stolen after all. Ryu stop by to chat and found it.” Reaching around, she presents the treasured sweater in question, prompting Opal to slowly approach. Showing little emotion, she takes the sweater from the red heads grasps and after inspecting it asks: “So Ryu found it, huh? Did he say anything else?” “Just sorry that he kinda broke your heart.” “Oh...” Her sweater in hand, the icy monk returns back to the shadows of the grotto, her gaze breaking with Chloe once more. “Listen, if it’s Ryu you’re still worried about, you don’t need him. You-” “It’s not Ryu I’m mad about. I’m over him. It’s about you.” “Me?” “The way you treated my sweater with callous disregard, it showed how little you think of me. That you barely even considered how losing something like that made me feel. It make me wonder that all we did today was just you trying to look like the bigger woman.

Hearing this, Chloe approaches the dragon monk, sitting beside her upon the hard stone. “Look. I’m just gonna come clean with you. At first, I just did this because everybody wouldn’t stop coming to me about you, like whatever you do is my damn business. But the more time I spent on this whole trip, the more I began to enjoy it. I mean picking out great clothes, teaching me how to use those chopsticks, finding an amazing looking pen. I’d never thought I’d have much fun hanging out with you, until today. And about your sweater, you’re right. I acted like I could just buy my way outta loosing it and never thought it might have been important to you. I always just took that kinda of stuff...for granted. You’re honestly one of the coolest girls I’ve ever met and I really don’t want things to end like this, but...I understand if you never wanna see me again. Later.” Her heartfelt apology dealt, the red head prepares to take her leave from the darkness of the grotto.

Right on the cusp of taking her sorry leave, Chloe hears the sound of the water monk call out and demand that she: “Wait.” A quick turn about towards her staring frosty friends request and she wonders what the girl might have left to get off her chest. “...Thanks for...getting me out of the house and taking me shopping. You’re whole encouraging blackmail trip actually kinda helped. I was beginning to feel a lot better. Lord knows how long I’d stow myself in my room if you hadn’t forced me out. Do you...do you still think we have time to hang out?” A warm smile drawn across her face, the red head approached and reassured that: “We’re teenagers. We can make our own time. But you might wanna better way of hanging onto that sweater of yours. Hang on.” Taking the garment from Opals grasps, she ties the warm sweater around her reforged friends neck. “There we go. Don’t look half bad on you when you wear it like that.” “Hee, thanks. Come on.”

Upon emerging from the darkness of the grotto, the sound of the ice monks phone halts the two in their tracks. “Oh hang on.” Digging the phone from her purse, she takes the answer, only to be met with the ballistic screams of her mother on the other end “Mom...S-slow down, what are you talking...The business depot...They said I did what!? Ha-hang on mom! I can explain, I...um, I...” Struggling upon what to say to the furious parental figure, the fallen dragon feels the calming touch from her once bitter rival upon her shoulder, looking back to find the fiery red head with a reassuring smile. The doubt and fears leaves the renewed monks person with a soothing breathe, determined to face the fury of her mother head on with: “Mom...There’s something that I need to tell you...”

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With this chapter, I wanted to try and explore the dynamic between Chloe and Opal in the aftermath of their burnt out rivalry. I thought it might be interesting for Chloe to try and help out a former rival having been weakened by the scares left behind by Circe, exploring a different side to the whole coping story that I did with Roy a couple Chapters back

(Also as a good story excuse to retcon Opals dragon powers, but never mind that.)

[dylanobemineforever]

My Savior - A Mitch Rapp Series / Chapter Three

Chapter One << Chapter Two << Chapter Three << Chapter Four

Author’s note: Sooo... idk what to think of this series. Should I continue or not? I don’t get a lot of feedback so idk *shrugs* Also I didn’t really proofread this, so there are probably a lot of mistakes here.

Warnings: swearing... but other than that nothing really... (smut will follow though and I am actually kinda nervous about writing it, because I haven’t done that yet, so if anyone here is willing to maybe help me with that part, that would be awesome *winks*)

Word count: 3,5k

Pairing: Mitch x Reader (not yet, but we are getting there ;) )

The days passed by and were all pretty much the same: getting up at five, going for a run, taking a shower, breakfast, more training like combat, shooting or swimming, lunch, language practice and culture studies, dinner. After dinner you usually had the rest of the day to yourselves to relax and clear your heads, but you always seemed to find yourself back in the gym either swimming track, running on a treadmill or kicking a punching bag or a dummy. It’s been over a week now since the incident happened and for some reason it still weighed heavy on you. Since then you had barley slept and all the physical training started to wear you down. Mitch hadn’t said anything to you, hell he didn’t even look at you! Of course you couldn’t blame him, but you still felt shitty about it. On more than one occasion you tried to approach him, seeing him always alone and on his own, but he would always just walk the other way. And again, you couldn’t really blame him, but you were trying to make up for it and you didn’t understand why he was so pettish about it and it made you angry, but you were still not giving up. Something told you that his behavior wasn’t solely because of what had happened but something else too and usually your intuition was never too far off. You were good at reading people and seeing straight through them. Mitch was just a bit harder to read, but definitely not impossible.

You took your food tray and looked around for a place to sit. Most of the trainees weren’t there yet, you being one of the first that evening, so many tables were still unoccupied. A heavy and long sigh left your lips as you made your way to one of the few tables that was not unoccupied, wanting to give it another shot. The knuckles on your hand started turning white from how hard you were gripping the tray, gripping even harder with ever step that you took. When you arrived at his table you just sat down opposite of him, not even giving him the chance to reject you from sitting there if you asked. He looked up briefly as he felt the table shift softly. His honey colored eyes glanced over to you with an annoyance in them that made it pretty clear that he didn’t want you there. You gave him an awkward smile and just as you were about to say something to him, he pushed his chair away from the table, taking his only half eaten food to get up and away from you. You thought he was going to sit down on another table, but instead put his tray away in its designed place and left through the big double doors. Needless to say, you were furious. How could he be such a girl, honestly? From the outside he looked like a tough guy but inside he was just wimp and you weren’t having any of it. You stood up so quickly your chair fell backwards and a loud shattering noise could be heard through the whole dining room. You mumbled a quick apology and ran through the doors. Determined to catch him before he was in the safe confines of his room.

“Hey dickhead!” You yelled as you saw him up ahead. His movements faltered for a second but then he just kept on walking as if he heard nothing. What a fucking jerk! “I am talking to you, you fucking asshole!” Again, you didn’t have any right talking to him like that, because a little over a week ago your hands were wrapped around his neck ready to squeeze the dear life out of him. And God did you wish right in that moment that you actually did it. What agitated you was that you tried so hard throughout that whole week to be nice to him and in return just got ignored. For fucks sake, he was training to become an assassin and granted he was pretty damn good at what he did, so him being a little bitch about the incident just didn’t fit his profile. So, you just wanted some answers. There was still no reaction. “All mighty Mitch fucking Rapp would thou arouse a little pity for the not so mighty in thou presence and grant those sad figures thou all too precious time and patience…” You said dramatically and he actually stopped dead in his tracks, turning slowly to face you and sending you a death glare that if looks could kill would set you six feet under by now, but you didn’t care. Having put up with his shit for far too long. “my fucking dickhead and asshole of a majesty?”

“What did you just say?!” was all he responded with. Not angry, even though the look on his face said something different, his voice sounded more irritated than anything else.

“That you’re a fucking asshole! Want me to draw you fucking picture?”

“That much I gathered. So, no thanks.” Wow look who could finally talk! “I meant what you said at the beginning. What did you call me?”

And now you wished that you hadn’t talked. How could you be so stupid? Stupid, stupid, STUPID. I am a fucking retard! “I don’t know what you mean.” Your voice was dripping from fake innocence.

“Oh, Malia or what the fuck your actual name is, cut the freaking horse shit and spill the beans!” Now he sounded angry. “Where do you know my fucking name from?” At this point he was nearly yelling, but tried to keep it toned down so no one would hear you two arguing and therefore arouse unwanted attention.

You gulped as he quickly closed the distance between the two of you. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him, setting your skin on fire and he wasn’t even touching you. Suddenly you weren’t as cocky anymore as you had just been a few minutes prior. The close proximity between you seemed to have taken the wit out of your seals. Ha, Y/N good one. A stupid grin made its way on your lips while you thought of the stupid pun you had just made, but it was gone instantly as you looked into Mitch’s eyes once again. They were cold and not their usual honey brown anymore. They were darker, more threatening. “I – I“ You cleared your throat, unable to form a whole sentence. Your face probably beamed bright red and you were embarrassed. Never, NEVER in your life did you not know what to say and much less where at a lack of witty or sarcastic responses to ease a tension filled moment. What was it about him that made you turn into a high school girl, trying to talk to their crush?

“You – You … WHAT?” he whisper-screamed the last part, making you flinch.

Okay, Y/N once and for all, get your fucking shit together! Sure, he looks good, gorgeous even with his long brown locks, the honey colored eyes, his upturned nose and … ugh! Really, Y/N? Really? I am disappointed in you! Yeah, you heard me right! Disa-fucking-ppointed! Now, pull yourself together before you start drooling!

“I have my sources.” You shrugged, attempting to make a step backwards and get a little more space between the two of you, but he just simply followed your movements. Your back hitting the wall behind you as you attempted to escape his captivating and intense gaze.

“What sources?” Now his anger was only noticeable through his squinted eyes and clenched jaw. But not in his extremely sexy and raspy voice. OMG Y/N, seriously?

“Oh my God dude, you need to tone it down a bit, because you are sending all kinds of mixed signals.” Look who found their voice again. God, took you long enough!

Mitch took a step back, raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner. Urging you on to elaborate, but you just started back. Eventually he gave the unspoken staring contest up which made you the obvious winner, duh and just shook his head at you. “So back to your sources. Care to elaborate?”

“Nope, not really.” Even you would have wanted to punch you in the face right now, with the biggest shit eating grin on your face the world has ever seen, you looked up at him. You actually were surprised that he hadn’t done it yet.

Against anything that you anticipated him doing, screaming in your face or threatening you, he did the one thing, you wouldn't have expected in a hundred years... nothing at all. He threw his arms up in fake surrender and sighed heavily. "Okay, well … I apparently can't escape you and I suppose you won't stop bothering me any time soon?" You shook your head, another sigh left his mouth. "So, what do you want? You got my attention, so spill it."

Actually, that was an excellent question! What did you want? To be honest, you didn't even think that you would come this far, so what now? Obviously, you didn't think that through...

"I wanna be friends... You know? Bury the hatchet, or whatever."

He seemed to consider the offer for a few minutes, but you could tell he was just playing you. Wanting to make it seem like he would reject you and that he had the upper hand here, but eventually he nodded. The edges on his mouth curling up a little.

 "Only a few more weeks and you are officially a part of an elite unit. Something that is bigger than yourselves! You've trained hard to come this far, but do you have what it takes to survive in the field? Are you up to the task? Are you really good enough for Orion?" Stan glanced between all the trainees, until his eyes landed on you. "From today on, you are entering a new phase of your training. Now we will see how compatible and transformable you are out there. Everyone who can't live up to a certain standard is out, no slacking from this point on. A simple screw up, be it a huge one like forgetting how many rounds you fired or something as simple as pronouncing a single word incorrectly, can now cost you and possibly your comrades life! First thing for today is a simple simulation. You have a target. Eliminate it, without getting discovered or killed in the process! Sounds simple? Well, only problem is, you don't know what your target looks like. Figure it out and don't disappoint me!" Stan paused and then pointed at you. “You and Mitch first! Now, get ready everyone!”

You walked around aimlessly or so you let outsiders believe you were. Your senses were on alert and your instincts kicked in. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Mitch trying to look particularly interested in kitchen utensils. He looked up and send a wink your way, having caught you staring for a little too long. A blush rose to your cheeks and you casually strode towards him, scanning the area as you went when someone or rather something caught your eye.

“Need help?” Mitch asked you with a shit eating grin.

Ever since you two had your argument and you admitting that you just wanted peace between the two of you, you actually became friends. Of course, at the beginning it was kind of awkward because you didn’t know how to act around one another, but eventually it got easier. Now you ate together, teamed up when you had to and as the weeks passed by he noticed your habit of you getting up in the middle of the night to train until utter exhaustion. He never said anything though or asked why you did it, he just simply got out of bed when he heard your footsteps, indicating that you had just passed his room. He rarely slept the night through -nightmares of that dreadful day always hunting him- and soon picked up on someone always passing his room on nearly the exact time of the night that peeked his curiosity. Eventually he just got up one night, followed the sounds of the footsteps through the maze of corridors and finally came face to face with you letting everything out on a poor punching bag that held absolutely no responsibility for your aggression whatsoever.

You hadn’t noticed that you had an unwanted audience standing by the door and watching your every move.

“You need to set your feet a little wider apart, then you can swing your hip better. This’ll give you more momentum and the punch is going to knock your counterpart out cold.” Your head swiveled in the direction of your intruder’s voice. It was Mitch. Of course, it was. “Here” he strode towards you until he was directly behind you. He stood so close that you could feel his hot breath hitting your exposed neck and it send shivers down your spine. “Let me show you.”

Mitch squatted down and rearranged your feet, then came up again to take the same position as before. You wanted to fire a sarcastic remark his way, but your voice was stuck in your throat. His large and veiny hands set onto your hips, setting your skin aflame. As you didn’t say anything he took that as a sign to continue and then started to rotate your hips. “See? Easier, isn’t it?” Still not trusting your voice, you only nodded. “Okay, let’s see what you got!” He said enthusiastically while making his way to the other side of the punching bag. You instantly missed his close proximity and how his touch revived every cell in your body. Mitch now hold the punching bag, signaling you to start punching. The new stance making it a lot easier to deliver powerful blows, but Mitch looked unimpressed. “Oh, come on Malia. You can do better than that!” You rolled your eyes at him and put even more force behind your punches. The first one took Mitch so off guard that he nearly lost his balance which made you giggle. For some reason you felt like you could be yourself in Mitch’s presence. You felt safe around him and you had the feeling that he wouldn’t judge you for whatever reason. The reason alone that he got out of bed at three in the morning to see you furiously punch the living shit out of a punching bag and not even asking a single question as to why, showed you that you made the right call to ask him to bury the hatchet a few days ago.

Mitch couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your shy laugher. He rarely ever saw you smile during the day, so it was even more precious to him when you actually did. In that moment he swore to himself that he would try to make you laugh or at least smile as often as the opportunity presented itself. Maybe he was just selfish, because hearing you laugh made him want to laugh along with you and he hasn’t really laughed since the day on the beach two years ago.

From that day on it became a regular thing for Mitch to follow your footsteps whenever he would hear you pass his door in the middle of the night. He never questioned you and you on the other hand never questioned him. You helped each other expelling the horrible images of your pasts out of your head. And you were both eternally grateful.

 “Nope. I know who I am tailing.” You shrugged nonchalantly and a cocky grin set on your face as his shit eating one fell from his face.

“What? Are you kidding me? We are, what? Ten seconds into this and you’ve already figured it out?” He hissed in a hushed voice.

“What? Now it’s my fault that I am better than you?” Mitch feigned that he was shocked by your comment. “That this even comes as a surprise to you. That is the real shocker here.”

Mitch had easily passed Marcus and Oliver on your scale of friends and it was kinda scary how fast you grew comfortable around one another.

“So, who is it?”

“Yeah, right.” You mocked him. “As if I tell you! Keep on dreaming.” You patted him on his shoulder and walked in the direction your target just went. During your whole conversation you always had an eye on him and the conversation with Mitch helped you to blend in more and making it seem like you hadn’t found out already who your target was. Often patience was crucial in your line of work. You had to wait for the right moment to execute the mission. In your head you already played out every possible outcome and your best chances at getting your hands on your target without raising suspicion either from him himself or innocent passerby’s who could get harmed in the process.  

From behind you, you could hear Mitch following you, but you didn’t give him any mind, now the mission was what counted. You drew your pistol, but kept it concealed by your jacket. Quickly, you closed the distance between you and your target as soon as he was in a less crowded area.

“If you as much as raise one eyebrow suspiciously, I am going to shoot you right here, right now.” You hissed into his ear while pressing the silencer of your fake 9mm Beretta into his back. “We are going to walk out of here civilized, understood?” The young man, probably in his early thirties, nodded nervously and began walking slowly as you nudged him with the attached silencer. You pressed your body against his side and tangled your left arm with his right one, your gun in your right hand, still concealed by your jacket, now pressing against his side at an angle that if you had to shoot you would perfectly hit his heart.

As smoothly as everything went to this point, shit started to hit the fan like a tornado soon after, destroying everything what was accomplished until this point. All of a sudden someone kicked in the backside of your right knee, causing you to lose balance and therefore the grip of your target who was now running away from you to the exit. What in the world? Before you could leap to pursue the runaway, you were tackled to the ground, knife to your throat. People around you started screaming and trying to get away from the scene that unfolded before them as fast as possible, stumbling over one another. You looked up at the man hovering over you. He must have been in his late twenties. He was way taller than you and also pretty built. It wouldn’t be easy to get out of his hold, but not impossible. “Any last words, you piece of shit?” He laughed with the expression of a mad man. Wow, where does Stan get these people from? They are better actors than some high ass movie stars. Just as you were about to try to wiggle out of his hold, something behind the man above you caught your attention.

“Yes.” Your voice was calm, no trace of being scared was evident. “Look behind you.” You winked at him, leaving him momentarily bewildered, but as soon as he as much as lifted his head, Mitch shot him with his fake gun. One bullet to the heart, one through his throat. The man collapsed on top of you, leaving you helpless under his weight. Damn, he sure weighs more than he looks like! When Mitch finally got that you needed help, he lifted the man of off your body and helped you to your feet.

People were still screaming and shouting in the fake IKEA building. The exits were crowded, people struggling to get out which gave you hope that your target was still somewhere between the mass of people. Mitch had the same idea and was close behind you as he nudged your side, trying to get your attention. And really there, not too far away from the two of you, stood your target, trying frantically to get out.

“I got this.” Mitch nodded and let you pass past him, shoving your way past everyone that blocked your way. As soon as you were face to face with your target once again, you brought your silencer up and shot him through the heart.

In chaotic situations like this, it was easier to just kill your target right away. People didn’t care about their surroundings in moments of panic and therefore no one noticed the man going down. And even less that a gun was involved. Later, it would just be believed that he was part of the shooting that had happened here and the security cameras weren’t able to trace this incident back to you, especially because you wore a hood over your head and you were utterly careful to not look directly into the cameras.

As soon as you were done you walked back to Mitch and you both shoved your way to the exit.

>> Chapter Four

[eve-daniels]

Zealot

((The following is a barely edited rp snippet between myself (as the old man) and those tagged below.))

The men who Rayne had eavesdropped on during his last visit to the village were nowhere to be seen. There was, however, a rather strange looking man nearby the village center walking in slow, erratic circles around a clearly homemade sign. He wore thin, scraggly furs that hardly covered his emaciated form, and boots that did not fit properly.

He was tall, had only thin wisps of oily grey hair covering the top of his scalp, and his skin was covered in age spots. If one were to approach, he would do that the man's dark brown eyes were dull, as if all life had drained from the old man already. The home made sign dripped with red paint, and mirrored the words the man chanted loudly in a hoarse voice.

"Beware, beware, the murderess a'there,"  he shouted, waving a knobbly arm up the hill, toward the manor. "Beware, Beware, the murderess a'there."

Rayne had watched the man go through this chant a few times, his arms crossed at his chest as the man continued to march in a circle. Rayne had considered ripping the sign from the ground, but instead he ventured forth and approached the old man.

Rayne had rolled his sleeves, once, twice, three times, in order to conceal the sigil that was sewn in his sleeve. The courier brought his hands down to his sides, his right hand resting near the pommel of his short sword. The halfling spoke in a calm tone to hopefully avoid conflict as he was simply trying to gain some insight. “You believe there’s a murderess in the manor, sir?”

Sera is strolling through town, however she wasn't in any dresses this time. She had her regular armor on and seemed to be learning the layout of the town. Her ears flicked as she heard the old man, which gave her enough motivation to stop and examine the older man, as well as the younger one who rolled up his sleeves. She stayed a little bit away from the older man, and trying not to stand out more than she probably already was, decided to plop herself on a stone wall, kicking her legs idly as she looked to be enjoying her day, keeping her ears and vision open as she made herself look as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Glad to be away from the nobles and what he considered fairly petty issues, Darian wandered the village with the slow aloof air of a man who had nowhere in particular to be. He probably seemed out of place, with his highly brocaided and well designed jacket, over the simple armor beneath but he didn't care much of what people thought of him. Instead he simply wandered and enjoyed a slice of a simpler life that he had left behind long ago. He picked up a thing or two in the village while he was there. A knitted scarf he paid more than he should have for, a small carved figure from an elderly man, and a few apples which he now idly consumed.

And there he found the man with the sign. Amusement lit the grizzled features of the Commander and he approached a little closer, though he knew better than to entreat with the mad. He examined the sign and would have moved off, if he didn't notice the few people gathering. He felt like he might recognize a few and so stayed where he was, enjoying his apple to watch.

As Rayne approached, the man paused his strides, but continued to shout until spoken to by the half elf.

"Yessir!" The elderly fanatic all but screamed at Rayne, in a voice that he seemed unlikely to be capable of in his frail state. "The Lady herself! Murdered her first husband, the Lord Hereford, and they say she's sent his only son away to his death!"

He paused, staring at Rayne with a fervent expression that did little to light the dull brown set onto the recesses of a near skeletal face. "Wouldn't be surprised if she killed Lord Schofield too! They say he was murdered right in the the place!! Everybody knows it's warded to the void and back. Ain't no way some assassin got in that place 'less she was a'livin there already, if you ask me."

His heavily booted feet drew him a little closer. Direct assumptions of guilt were a far cry from the generalized ranting of a madman. He indicated with the half eaten apple in his hand, his other hand resting on the hilt of his dueling saber. Nothing in what he was doing could be seen as threatening, simply indicative.

"But did anyone ask you old man? Assassins come in many forms and types, and do not require magics. Perhaps you should go up to the mansion and lay down your claims to the Captain of the Guard? I am sure they would give you a warm welcome. If not, then perhaps you are not so strident in your convictions."

Sera's smile vanishes at the mention of assassins, especially in a well guarded place such as the manor. She stops kicking her legs as she concentrates, looking around for Cami, as well as anyone else that could be a potential threat. For the moment she's satisfied, as she finds everything that she needs to, but even that doesn't really bring back her smile. Her feet go flat against the stone wall, ready to jump off at any second.

The Outrunner listened to the man's claims with an open mind as he didn't fully understand the story anyways. What he spoke of had made sense to Rayne, especially after his own encounter with the magical wards placed over the estate.  Rayne's lips parted to speak but found themselves silenced once more as another voice had hit the air. Rayne's head turned to see who had spoken and had vaguely remembered the face of the man of the horse, though it was his first time hearing him speak with how quickly Rayne had departed from the sitting room.

A sharp whistle hit the air as an odd looking bird perched itself on a nearby rooftop, overlooking the scene below.

The old man turned to frown at Darian. He took a moment to eye the man's finery, pegging him as a noble himself instantly. "Well, your lordship I don't reckon they did. That red headed, husband murderin' bitch what that sits up there all high an' mighty would have my head if I tried that, sure as the sky is blue."

Frustrated by what he perceived as their ignorance of the facts, he resumed his chant, this time standing in place while pumping his fist into the air feebly, this time adding to his original refrain.

"Beware, beware, there's a murderess a'there, beware beware, the bitch with red hair."

Darien snorted peevishly. "Ah well it would seem your powers of observation are not what they need to be, or you would not be calling me any sort of Lord." He sniffed derisively and shook his head taking two steps closer.

"But I am in the service of a guest up there, and I doubt they would appreciate you maligning the lady's good name. Especially from someone like you who, appears to live at the whim OF the lady on the hill. If she were so murderous, i'm sure you would not be standing there hmm? So...run along back to the masters who have you out here to be a catspaw."

Sera hums out to herself, as if she's not entirely certain what's going on. On the inside however, this kind of thing she obviously isn't enjoying, as her face is almost expressionless. Her tattoos flare out small purple flames as her frustration increases. However, she knows that at the moment she can't do what she wants to do, lest she ruin Cami's reputation. So she sits there, her fingers already well dug into the stone, enough so most of her fingers are embedded into it, doing what she's supposed to do, and scans the area of any other threat.

The courier had squinted at the old man in an attempt to restrain himself on Lady Schofield's behalf. It didn't rest well with the young halfling and with each moment the anger in the young boy grew. "That's enough." His voice was stern, as if ordering the older man to step aside and cease his actions. "I'll not have you down here slandering Lady Schofield's good name with lies." The courier attempted to take the sign from the ground in the hopes of bringing the old man's act to an end.

The old man might have been a zealot of sorts, but he wasn't entirely stupid. He knew he was no match for the younger men, and as such, did nothing to stop the sign from being removed.

"Light bless those who speak the truth! Beware, beware the bitch with red hair!" He screamed loudly in protest.

"They can take my head for all I care!" He shouted at Darian, raising both hands to the sky as if ready to to be struck dead on the spot. "I am an old man, and I am not afraid to die for the truth. Beware, beware, the murderess a'there!"

By now, a crowd had begun to gather in the square. Most of the villagers had grown accustomed to the old man's shouting, and it wasn't until he had been approached by the others that things had become interesting to them. The dozen or so gathered simply watched for now, whispering amongst themselves.

(( @silent-rayne @ogrimskar @nalsrumvokunhaan ))